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The Story of the Seas. 


K 


EOMANCE IN EBALITT 

OF K SSILOR’S LIFE, 

BY 


F. D. BAARS. 


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The Story of the Seas. 

mt 


Romance irj Reality 

OF A Sailor’s Life, 



/ 

F. D. BAARS. 


i 


PUBLISHED BY 
BAARS 

Arkadelphia, ark. 


SALUTATORY. 


A story of a life! What is there more interesting? The story 
of a boy’s life! Par from home, on the heaving billows, on foreign 
shores! A story of thrilling experiences, risks, troubles! A story 
though, which ends in peace, for God was in it all. 

A few years since I heard the substance of the pages that fol- 
low, given in the form of lectures. By them my knowledge was in- 
creased and my sympathies enlarged. I am sure that this book will 
find many readers, and that all who read it will be interested and 
helped. The author was for a time a member of my faculty and 
family. He is true in character, and hence, of course, true in words. 

Here is history more interesting than fiction. You will hear the 
dash of waves, the roar of tempests, the wild pulsations of a wander- 
er’s heart; but, after it all, a still small voice repeats and keeps 
repeating : 

“There Is a divinity that shapes our ends, 

Rough hew them as we will.” 


W*. T. LOWREY. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


! 


The author of “The Story of the Seas” during the past six- 
teen years has resided in the South. He is of German descent, born 
in Hamburg. His father was a seaman and bequeathed to young Fred, 
a heritage of adventurous character. Seven years on the sea rend- 
ered full satisfaction, and he became a resident of Louisiana. Soon 
thereafter, he entered Mississippi College, where he spent four years 
becoming acquainted with the English language and studying for 
the ministry. He subsequently attended the S. B. T. Seminary 
(Louisville, Ky.), and the Cincinnati Conservatory. In his earlier 
years, he was a pupil in the Hamburg Gymnasium and the Leipzic 
Conservatory. For five years he was Director of Music of Blue Moun- 
tain College, (Miss.) and for the past four years has had charge of the 
Conservatory of Music of Ouachita College. His compositions have 
found their place in some of the best colleges of the South. He lives 
in a sacred atmosphere of the great creations of art. He was happily 
married to Miss Willie Wilkes, of Tennessee, a highly educated 
woman. 

To read this book is to become acquainted with its author, for 
it breathes his spirit on every page. In private intercourse, few men 
.are more pleasant and instructive, and young people find in him a 
wise and sympathetic friend. He has never forgotten the intense 
struggle by which his own career has been made victorious, and he is 
full of suggestion, encouragement and hope. 

The oak must drink the dew and rain, absorb the sunshine, 
•breathe the air and suck up the soil; but it requires the storm, the 
night and the frost to give permanency to fibre, to make it steady and 
self-reliant. The hurricane may threaten to uproot it, the whirlwind 
to shiver its heart in twain; but the one causes it to send its roots 
deeper into the soil, the other to knit its fibres closer together. 
So every circumstance in human life should be turned to advantage. 
Poverty, privation, sorrow— prosperity, friendship, honors — alike are 
means of development. Sorrow quickens sensibility and softens 
affection; opposition develops courage and independence of character. 

The author of this book made sea-life a business. Most books 
of travel are written by those who made certain visits abroad in 
search of pleasure or of cfertain data. They lived not the life of the 
sea. So seldom have we books written by men who have broad 
culture, and at the same time have had the bitter experiences of the 


most adventurous sea-life. In our author we have extensive experi- 
ence in the life of a seaman, the highest culture, the purest character. 
Most sailors are illiterate ; they have superficial ideas ; their delinea- 
tions are overdrawn; hence they cannot give an accurate account of 
their own lives, much less the account of sea life in general. 

The central purpose of the author seems to be to give to those 
who live away from the sea- coast, and know nothing of the sea, 
accurate glimpses of the sailor’s life. Technical terms, the hiero- 
glyphics of the sea, are omitted, and the charming and weird story of 
the sailor’s life is told in such fascinating simplicity that the reader feels 
sure that no fiction abounds— that it is true to life. No artificial ideas 
are injected; it is a reality, not a romance. The memoir style gives 
latitude in the description of persons and events. Here the reader 
has a living, moving, breathing picture — a ^^personam^^’ not a “su6- 
jccfam.” The pulse beats quick as he writes. Feeling is an important 
element in this drama of the sea, portrayed not in phlegmatic or stolid 
style, not in words of cold philosophy. \ 

The book has an important educational value. A real end of 
education is to know life — the life of one and all— especially the lives 
of those who move in different spheres from us. This gives breadth. 

All that is good in the sailor’s life is emphasized, the evil is 
omitted. The moral tone is high, yet without moralizing. No boy 
will desire to go to sea after reading the book. 

Travel is the most fascinating phase of life ; the next most fasci- 
nating is reading the lives of those who have traveled. For the re- 
ceptive and observant soul, nature “speaks a various language” and 
has a “voice of gladness and a smile and eloquence of beauty.” 

Where else than at sea are the grandeur and power of God so 
impressive? Where is a man so helpless as at sea? Hence, faith and 
humility find here an enlarged sphere for activity. 

A good book is a “crystal vial that holds all the potentiality of a 
living soul,” rich with experience. Good literature is the “sculptured 
urn which holds the ashes of the dead past.” 

J. W. CONGER. 

Ouachita College, October 20th, 1896. 


INDEX 


PAGE. 

Chapter I.— Good-Bye, 9 

Chapter II. — Running Away, ----- ^3 

Chapter III.— Lost, - - - - - - - 17 

Chapter IV. — In Panama Jail, ----- 24 

Chapter V.— The Hospital, - - - - - 33 

Chapter VI.— New Comrades and New Adventures, - 38 

Chapter VII. — The Tramp Steamer Concord, - - - 48 

Chapter VIII.— Stowing Away, - . _ - 54 

Chapter IX.— Captain Brick-bat, - - - - - 61 

Chapter X. — A Reunion and a Sad Parting, - - - 70 

Chapter XI.— A Sailor’s Boarding House, - - - 79 

Chapter XII. — With Shorty in the Costa-Rica, - - 86 

Chapter XIII. — Promotion, - - - - -92 

Chapter XIV. — Miss Sophia, - - - . - joq 

Chapter XV.— Homeward Bound, - - - - - 109 

Chapter XVI. — Rounding Cape Horn, - - - - 119 

Chapter XVII. — Home ?------ 126 

Chapter XVIII. — The Old Critter, - - - - 133 

Chapter XIX.— More About the Old Critter, - - - 145 

Chapter XX.— Among the Breakers, - - . . 152 

Chapter XXI. — The Capricorn, ----- i62 

Chapter XXII.— The Angel of Death, - - - - 171 

Chapter XXIII.— The Roanoke, - - - - - 180 

Chapter XXIV. — Mutiny and Murder, - - - 190 

Chapter XXV.— Miss Maggie and the Party, - - - 200 

Chapter XXVI. — Second Mate, - - - - 211 

Chapter XXVII.— His Majesty and Party, - - - 219 

Chapter XXVHI.— The Geo. E. Thatcher, - - - 229 

Chapter XXIX.— The Rescue, 241 

Chapter XXX.— The Last, 266 



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THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


CHAPTER I. 

GOOD-BYE. 

I want to tell you a story, not of fiction, but of fact; not 
mere fancy, but of real life. The scenes and incidents of my 
story occurred more than twenty years ago, and I shall tell 
them as they impressed me then and as I remember them now. 

The years of 1870 and ’71 were years of great excitement 
throughout Germany. Flushed with the victory over France, 
civilian as well as soldier, young and old, fairly reveled in its 
glory. Everybody seemed to be or think himself to be, a 
hero; and only a life of daring heroism was worthy of a man, 
at least so I thought. 

Ever since I was large enough to float a paper ship in a 
wash tub, I had wanted to be a sailor. My father, having 
spent forty years on the water, was my inspiration. 

The year 1872-73 was my senior year at the Hamburg Gym- 
nasium, and on Easter Sunday, 1873, being fourteen years 
old, I was confirmed in the Lutheran Church. With that 
ended my childhood and school days in Germany. I regretted 
most to give up my music, having studied the piano under the 
best teachers of Hamburg and Leipsig. 

My father. Captain Steffen Baars, had consented, and my 
mother, poor dear mother, submitted, and I was going to sea. 
Although I had grown familiar with ships and seamen, yet 
the life upon which I was to enter was but a castle in the air, 
filled with romance and pictures of strange adventures. 

One Tuesday morning father came home and said: “I 
think I have found a ship for you; my friend, Capt. Hebicht, 
will leave next Friday on the steamship Borussia; she is 


10 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


bound for the West Indies and will be gone but three 

months.” Now I should have much preferred a voyage on 

some great sail ship to some unheard-of country, or a voyage 
of discovery, like Columbus, yet upon advice of my father I 
decided to take a berth in the Borussia, as that would be a 
beginning. 

Wednesday morniog I went to the shipping office; there on 
a large bulletin was written : 

STEAMSHIP BORUSSIA— Hthicht, 

BOUND FOR THE WEST INDIES. 

Wanted to-day. 

36 firemen, 6 ordinary seamen, 

28 seamen, 4 deck boys, 

6 cabin boys, etc. 

The shipping boss called for each class of men separately, 
and at each call two or three times the number of men needed 
would rush for the office. In each case some applicants had 
already been registered and only the remaining number was 
picked from the crowd. , “ Cabin boys,” called out the ship- 
ping boss, and more than twenty boys of all sizes and shapes, 
rushed for the door, and but for my having been registered 
by my father, I would have been left. My name was called. 
I made my way through the crowd and entered the office. Six 
boys, aged from fourteen to eighteen years, stood around the 
desk of the shipping master. After the usual questions of 
name, age, etc., the ship’s articles were read, solemnly and 
with dignity. I have often shipped in different ports and in 
many different ships, but I have never known a shipping 
master who so magnified his office as this quaint, bald-headed, 
pompous, fat, little shipping master in Hamburg. Though 
be read these articles from the Code of Marine Law perhaps 
twenty times a day and had done so for many years, yet each 
time he arose from his chair, adjusted his spectacles, called 
out in an imperial tone, about half of it coming through his 
nose: “ Stand up straight. Order. Attention.” And then 
took up the book reverently and read with a deep intonation 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


11 


the usual articles, somethiug like this: “I solemnly promise 
that 1 will obey all orders of the captain of the steamship 
Borussia and the orders of all the officers. Will be prompt 
in the discharge of all duties and all general and special reg- 
ulations,’’ etc., etc. After this solemn ceremony, each man 
having answered separately, “I will,” the articles are signed 
and that closes the contract. 

We were ordered to be on board Friday morning at 7 o’clock. 

How magnificent is the realization of a great hope, like a 
glorious sunrise after a long and dreary night. Thus dazed 
by the actual realization of my long cherished hope, I returned 
home as if in a dream. 

Thursday was a busy day. My sea chest (sailor’s trunk) 
was being packed. To the necessary articles which my father 
had procured, mother had added so many little things that 
only a mother’s thoughtfulness and tender care could have 
devised. Friends called and, most of them, bored me, except 
a few chums who stayed with me nearly all day and, as I 
thought, envied me in my prospects. Now and then it seemed 
that evening would never come. At last the evening shades 
gathered and the day was ended. I had seen but little of my 
mother during the day. Sister — there were but two of us 
children — looked so thoughtful, and my father, who used to 
tell me so many sea stories of storms and adventures, who 
used to laugh at the little ships I would rig up and send on 
imaginary voyages, who used to be so proud of his own great 
ship and loved the sea so much, yet on this Thursday evening 
he was so quiet and looked so sad, not only in the expression 
of his face, but in all he said and did. Late that night, just 
before retiring, he called me to him and said, falteringly, as 
he pressed me tenderly to his heart: “ My boy,if-if you don’t 
want to go, you need not.” “But, father,” I replied, “ I have 
signed the articles and I must go now.” “Yes,” he said, 
“but I can make that all right if you don’t want to go.” I 
do not remember what else 1 said, but that tender embrace, 
those soft words and that strange, sad look, are still fresh 
in my memory. Mother, dear mother, did not sleep much 
that night. Perhaps none of our little household did, and 
-early in the morning we were up and busy. 


12 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


“Come to breakfast,” called that sweetest of all voices I 
ever heard. We gathered around the table in the kitchen so 
neat and clean. We always ate in the kitchen except when 
we had company. We had scarcely started to eat when 
mother laid down her knife and fork and left the table. Fa- 
ther could not eat. That sweet little sister, so sweet and 
good in spite of all our former quarrels, tried in vain to* 
brighten the trying hour by saying: “Papa, he’ll bring ua 
all a monkey when he comes back, won’t he? ” 

“Time to go,” said father, and we went. Some friends 
went with us. We reached the great landing place. The 
Borussia was all astir; crowds of people hurried to and fro; 
officers called out their commands; thus amid the busy throng 
we reached the main deck of the floating city. We had ar- 
rived none too soon. The ship’s bell tolled — the first bell. 
The bustle on deck increased. Now the captain comes on 
board. A few hurried words of greeting and he is gone to 
reappear on the bridge. Here comes the pilot. The “blue 
peter” goes up to the foremast head, the second bell rings out: 
and the order comes: “Everybody leave the deck except the 
passengers and crew.” Tears and smiles, loud sobs and 
merry laughs, strangely intermingle. “Good-bye, mother; 
good-bye, sister; good-bye.” My father looked so sad — and 
my heart seemed to choke me. They went over the gangway 
and stood on the wharf; then the shrill, hoarse whistle of the 
steamer shrieked long and loud, the engines began to heave 
and slowly the great ship began to move. On the wharf it 
seemed as if there was only a mass of waving hats and hand- 
kerchiefs, above which rose the loud cheers of the multitude. 

I could plainly see those whom I loved most, and after all 
these years the picture is still vivid in my memory. Mother 
hid her face in her hands; sister looked on thoughtfully, and 
father, with that strange, sad look, waving his hat, called to 
me his last words: “ Son, do your duty.” 


THE STORY OF THE SP^AS. 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

RUNNING AWAY. 

“Halloa; who are you?’’ said a rough voice and a heavy 
hand was laid on my shoulder. I was still standing on the 
quarter deck, leaning over the railings watching closely those 
scenes which seemed to be drifting away from me. Startled 
at this I faltered. “I-I-believe I am a cabin boy, sir.” 
““Yes,” replied the boatswain, for it was he, “I’ve been looking 
for you an hour. Go down and report to the second engineer; 
go on quick.” I inquired my way to the second engineer’s 
state room, found the door open and Mr. Boese, the second 
engineer, rumaging about among confused heaps of clothing, 
bundles and packages. As I entered the door he seemed to 
know me and without my formal introduction accosted me in 
a tone that indicated no good humor. “Well you are the 
boy, are you? Don’t you know that you should have reported 
for duty by seven o’clock? Get to work here, straighten up 
this room; but first go and get some fresh water and hurry 
back.” I took the tin demijohn and as if guided by instinct 
found my way to the fresh water pump. Returning I met a 
little, heavy set, square shouldered, pop-eyed man who stopped 
me and, “Are you the engineer’s boy?” “Yes, sir” I 
answered. “Well put down that water and come here. I’ve 
been looking for you all over the deck, you little devil. 
Come here quick or I’ll break your neck.” With that he 
shoved me into the state room occupied by the third and 
fourth engineers, and my demijohn full of water, and my 
Sunday clothes (and I in them) landed under a small table 
at the feet of the third engineer, who was more kindly dis- 
posed and so helped me up and kept the pop-eyed man (the 
fourth engineer) from any further ceremony which he seemed 
to regard as a kind of formal introduction. When peace was 
restored he spoke to me kindly. “Young man you must 
learn to be prompt and obey orders strictly. We have to 
obey as well as you. Now we have only fifteen minutes in 


14 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


which to eat our breakfast which you ought to have had ready 
on the table nearly a half hour ago. I’ll help you now. 
Take these dishes to the main kitchen and get the breakfast. 
Here, these four dishes and the coffee pot. Don’t try to 
bring it all at once. Now be quick, but be careful, and I’ll 
set the table while you are gone.” I soon returned and 
waited on the table. While Mr. Froman, the third engineer, 
was giving further instructions Mr. Pop-eye (as he was called 
by the men) eyed me over from head to foot and jerked out 
various ejaculations to augment and emphasize these detailed 
instructions. The bell rang; though scarcely through with 
their breakfast they both hurried to their post of duty. The 
first engineer stands no watch but is to the engine rooms 
what the captain is to the ship — chief commander. The 
second engineer stands watch from 12 to 4 o’clock, the first 
watch; the third engineer from 4 to 8, the second watch; and 
the fourth from 8 to 12, the third watch. They had 
scarcely gone when here came Mr. Boese, the second engineer* 
who was really my chief. “What did you do with the water 
I sent you after?” I tried to explain about my unexpected 
introduction to the Pop-eye, but he gave me no time and inter- 
rupted me by saying, “Go and get that water/’ Upon 
reaching his room, with the water this time, he also gave me 
my instructions, which were about as follows; “Get up in the 
morning at 6 o’clock. Bring fresh water and clean up the 
room of the second engineer, getting through by 7 o’clock. 
Then get fresh water for the third and fourth engineers and 
clean up their room. Set the table for breakfast and wake 
the Pop-eye. At 8 o’clock serve breakfast. After breakfast 
wash the dishes. At 10 o’clock go to the provision master 
and get the daily rations, such as coffee, sugar, two bottles of 
wine and a can of condensed milk. These are given out each 
morning for the day. Then make preparations for dinner, 
which was served at 12 o’clock; again wash the dishes. Dur- 
ing the afternoon clean the lamps, polish the brass works, 
such as chandeliers and window frames; at 4 p. m. serve cof- 
fee and wafers, at 6 o’clock serve supper, getting through 
with all work by 7 o’clock. I soon learned the daily duties 
and things went on smoothly. 


TUK STORY OF THE SEAS. 


15 


Sunday came, a beautiful May day. In the morning we 
entered the English Channel, on our right lay the white sandy 
shore of Dover, England, and far to the left we could plainly 
see the outlines of the coast of France. Hundreds of vessels 
of all shapes and sizes and plying in every direction, could be 
seen on all sides. It was my first Sunday away from home. 
I thought of my loved ones, as I had perhaps never thought 
before. I wondered what they were doing and what they 
were saying. I thought of the strange, sad look of my father, 
and his last words, “Son, do your duty,” rang in my ears and 
in my heart ; but no ; I would not be home sick. I had already 
become acquainted with a good many people among the crew 
of the steamer, especially some of the other cabin boys. Her- 
man was the deck oflScer’s boy and Kobert, the petty oflScer’s 
boy. I seemed to be drawn to these two, and as the days 
went by we became more and more intimate. At night we 
would meet on the main deck and tell each other our troubles 
when sad or share each other’s joys when glad, which was not 
often. 

We were approaching the islands, when one night, evading 
the watchman, we stayed on deck longer than was permitted. 
I felt all out of sorts, because I had overslept myself that 
morning and the result had been a striking interview with 
Pop-eye, in which he did all the striking. Besides I had 
broken one of my large dishes and Mr. Froman had scolded 
me and that hurt more than the whipping from Pop-eye, for 
Mr. Froman was good to me and I loved him. Herman had 
had trouble also that day. He had talked back to one of the 
oflicers and the ofiicer had thrown a glass at him, cutting his 
arm. Robert, poor little Robert was always in trouble. The 
boatswain had flogged him twice that day. So that night, 
after telling each other our tale of woe, we sat for some time 
in silence, listening to the steady heavings of the engine and 
the rushing of the great rolling waves. “Boys I’m sick of 
this,” broke in Robert. “I wish I was at home.” Robert 
was the youngest of the three, being a few months younger 
than I. Herman was perhaps two years older than I. “Don’t 
cry, baby,” replied Herman. “I’m no baby,” said Robert, 
full of spirit, “but I’m sick of this steamer. I wish we would 


16 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


strike some good country and you would see me going.” 
“Now you are talking like a man,” said Herman, with much 
earnestness, “Boys, I’ve been thinking about that for two or 
three days. The baker told me that Aspinwall is the finest 
country on earth. We’ll get there fin about seven or eight 
days, and suppose we ask the baker to meet with us to-morrow 
night and talk it over together.” I was delighted with the 
thought. With that we adjourned. The next day things 
went but little better. I was thoroughly dissatisfied and the 
idea of running away in Central America had fairly set me 
wild. We met as usual. The baker, as we called him, was 
an assistant in the second kitchen, a dark, lean, haggard fel- 
low, but full of ideas, especially for other people who could 
or would take them in. His description of Panama was a rare 
piece of originality as well as eloquence, and Herman, Robert 
and I took it in and had fully made up our minds some days 
before the steamer reached Aspinwall. Oh yes, I thought 
something about the consequences. Yet, to run away was the 
only way in which we could dissolve partnership with the Bo- 
russia, and it is really not considered a crime. Indeed, run- 
aways occur so often on ships that little is thought of them. 
Capt. Hebicht, though an old friend and former shipmate of my 
father, had paid no attention to me; the engineers had treated 
me like a dog; and besides, what a country was this (the baker 
seemed to know), abounding in fruit and all kinds of wealth. 
Young men, especially Germans, were welcome and we could 
make lots of money. “Yes, that’s the thing to do— we’ll run 
away. ’ ’ 

Our steamer stopped at St. Thomas and from there we went 
to Aspinwall. 

It was on a Friday night — we had failed to get away the 
night before. Ten o’clock found us waiting on the main deck 
on the port side of the engine house. The starboard side of 
the ship lay alongside the wharf . Eleven o’clock came; the 
quartermaster called out: “ Six bells.” Somebody answered 
and struck the bell. All was silent and the quartermaster 
kept his vigil. “ Seven bells,” he called at half past eleven. 
“ Seven bells,” came the answer, and the bell rang out in the 
night air. All was silent again, and still the quartermaster 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


17 


kept his vigil. At last at twelve he called out, “EightBells.” 
No answer. He called again, and again no answer came. 
Then he went forward as we hoped he would long ere this, to 
strike the bell himself; and while he went forward, we crept 
over the gangway and were lost in the darkness. 


CHAPTER HI. 
lost! 

The night was dark. Fortunately we had not far to go, 
the depot being near the steamship landing, and as there was 
but one line of railroad we could not lose our way if we 
■could once find the main track. This railroad from Colon, 
Aspinwall, to Panama is fifty-eight miles. We intended to 
walk, and hoped to make the journey in three days. We sold 
part of our clothing and gave away much that we could not 
sell, of which the baker got the lion’s share. Then with two 
■or three changes of clothing and provisions for our three 
<lays journey strapped on our backs, we had started on our 
adventure. After some little wandering about among ware- 
houses, piles of boxes and barrels and lines of freight cars, 
we were suddenly accosted by a rough “Hello!” It was but 
the work of a moment to glide under the nearest freight car. 
On he came; we knew our danger and almost ceased to 
breathe. It was the watchman. Now he had reached the 
^nd of the car; would he look under it? He paused a mo- 
ment, then walked around on the other side and soon we heard 
his footsteps receding. We waited a moment to be sure he 
was gone and then emerged from our hiding place and re- 
sumed our task, which we found somewhat difficult, for to 
find the main line of railroad in a city, and especially in a 
strange city, is hard to do. At last we were getting 
clear of the confusion and hoped soon to be out of immediate 
danger when again “Hello ! ” burst upon us. The voice came 
from around that pile of boxes and was only a few feet from 


18 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


US. We dropped flat on the ground and waited in breathless 
suspense while he came around, listened and went back. Ho ! 
here was the main track at last, and how we walked. So far 
the baker had been right. 

On, on, we hastened without speaking a word. We had 
walked perhaps about two hours or more when we made our first 
halt and sat down on the ends of the cross ties. After a 
few moments of rest, Kobert could retain himself no longer; 
he jumped up and his clear, rich voice rang out through the 
silence of the night, “Hurrah — ah, boys, we’re free, free 
forever!” “Hush you fool,” said Herman, “we are not free 
yet. If they catch us now we will see more trouble than we 
ever saw aboard the Borussia. Be quiet and rest a while and 
then we must hurry on.” Although the gentle sea breeze 
fanned us pleasantly, yet it was warm and our rapid walk 
had made us wet with perspiration. After a rest of five 
or ten minutes, we resumed our journey. On we trudged. 
Intoxicated by the spirit of adventure, we forgot that we 
were either tired or hungry and I forgot that I was so thirsty. 

Now the first dawn of a new day brightened the eastern 
horizon; the twinkling stars grew fainter, and one by one dis^ 
appeared. Still we walked on till the golden rays of the ris- 
ing sun shed their splendor on the magnificent scenery about 
us. Then we stopped, sat down on the cross ties and thought. 
My thirst again asserted itself and I broke the silence with : 
“Boys, I must have some water.” My companions seemed 
to suffer as much as I, yet there was no water in sight. Far 
on ahead of us was what seemed to be a house. We started 
on again and after a walk of perhaps two miles we reached 
the place, a dilapidated building erected perhaps by men who 
were employed on the railroad section. It was now deserted, 
but oh I joy ! close by was a clear spring of water. We threw 
down our bundles, slaked our thirst, washed our faces and 
soon felt much refreshed. Gradually however, we realized 
how tired we were. We had slept but little Thursday night, 
having watched until after one o’clock and failed to get 
away, had been in a state of excitement for nearly a week 
and now had walked steadily for nearly six hours, and our 
strength was giving way. “Look here,” said Herman, “they 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 




found out that we were gone early this morning and I am 
afraid some one will be after us pretty soon; suppose we find 
a good shady place a mile or so from the track and rest until 
this evening, and then pursue our journey again to-night.” 
“Good!” thought both Robert and I, and by the way, Her- 
man had more sense then Robert and I put together. We 
started through the thicket. “Whoopee!” shouted Robert, 
“look at the bananas.” Sure enough just ahead of us was a 
real banana tree, and we made for it. Reader, did you ever 
try a green banana? Try one some time and you’ll never try 
another. We found a few ripe ones to our great delight. 
Then we spied a cocoanut tree and forgot again that we were 
tired. Ah ! no wonder; for we were in a veritable fairy land. 
“Look at those beautiful birds,” cried Herman, pointing to a 
group of Avhat seemed to be miniature parrots, with the rich- 
est green plumage. Now that we once came to notice them 
we were fairly dazzled by the number and brilliancy of the 
birds that called to each other from the waving palm trees 
or beat the air with their shining wings. They are flying all 
about us now — birds of all shapes and sizes; birds of all 
colors, pure white or tinged with gold or silver or bronze, 
and glistening in the glorious sunlight. “The flowers, the 
flowers!” Our gaze fell from the magnificent display of 
colors above to an equally magnificent display at our feet. 
Flowers, the most beautiful flowers, of dainty shapes and 
delicate tints carpeted the earth. On we sped over the little 
knolls and through the dense vales, now separating and com- 
ing together again on some hill top, each having made some 
new discovery. Thus entranced by the marvelous beauty 
which only the luxuriant tropics afford, we did not stop until 
the sun shed his rays straight down upon us; then tired 
almost to exhaustion, we stretched ourselves under the shade 
of a spreading palm tree and were soon fast asleep. 

When we awoke the sun touched the tree tops in the west. 
I felt quite sore and stiff and it took some e:ffort to raise my- 
self to a sitting posture, and I was, oh ! so sleepy. Robert 
was the hardest to rouse, and laid down again and again, each 
time with a groan. At last we got him awake. We opened 
our baggage, partook of a hearty meal, finishing nearly half 


20 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


of our provisions this time, and prepared for another night’s 
journey. We started to our feet and looked all around. 
Then Herman looked at me, then at Robert and turned 
deathly pale. The truth flashed upon us — we were lost. 
Thoughtless, even foolish as it may seem, vve had paid no at- 
tention to direction or distance, and found ourselves abso- 
lutely without bearings, and with no idea of the distance to 
the lost track. “ Here are our tracks,” said Herman, “come 
on, and may be we can retrace them.” Going some little dis- 
tance, this time keeping our starting point in view, Robert 
suddenly cried out : “Here boys, this vine — I cut il this morn- 
ing and tore my shirt sleeve on the stump. I came here from 
yonder branch where we got some water.” We went to the 
branch, got some water, crossed over and found that our 
tracks, only visible here and there, divided. The sun was 
setting and it would soon be dark. What could we do? We 
had learned before leaving that there was but one train a 
day, coming from Panama in the morning and returning in 
the evening, and after some discussion, we decided to return 
to ihe place where we had slept during the day and wait for 
the sound of the morning train. Arriving there, we sat down 
under the same spreading palm tree and remained silent for 
sometime. “Boys,^’ said Herman, “we’d better camp here 
to-night, and surely we will hear the train in the morning and 
we can follow the direction from which we hear the sound.” 
Darkness had gathered quickly in the dense shadows of the 
trees. A long silence followed Herman’s remark, which was 
suddenly broken by the long, loud, bellowing shriek of some 
ferocious wild animal. We sprang to our feet and drew close 
together, for a few moments we stood there in breathless sus- 
pense, then Robert burst into tears. “ Hush your whimper- 
ing,” said Herman, “ get out your knives, and if it comes to 
the worst, let’s make a desperate fight.” Again the hideous 
howl rent the night air. We kept a close lookout. The noise 
increased, the brutes seemed to answer each other from every 
direction. The woods were full of them. At last we sat down, 
for it was evident they were not coming any nearer. We after- 
wards learned that they were a very large species of bullfrogs. 
What a night was this! Our imaginations were not idle in 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


21 


increasing the horrors of our situation. Phantoms seemed to 
dance about us in the darkness, imaginary snakes crawled up 
our backs, ugly poisonous bugs and worms seemed to squirm 
about us on the grass, and we were nearly scared to death. 
After some time — years it seemed to me — our fears grew less. 
The roar of the bullfrogs seemed less hideous; the imaginary 
phantoms and snakes became fewer and remained at some 
distance, and as our e}es became more accustomed to the 
darkness, the ugly bugs and worms disappeared altogether. 
Some leal foes came now — mosquitos, great big ones, great 
swarms of them, and threatened to eat us up alive. They 
worked on us vigorously all night. Toward morning Ave fell 
asleep and slept several hours. The sun was fully an hour 
high Avhen Ave aAA^oke. Oh! that the train would pass and 
give us the longed for signal. We partook of our light break- 
fast, Avent to the branch, bathed our faces and hands and blis- 
tered feet, and then returned to our temporary headquarters 
and waited. We Avaited long and patiently, but ho sound of 
a train or an5Thing like it could be heard. The sun rose 
higher and higher, till it reached the meridian. Certainly the 
morning train had passed. It could not have passed before 
Ave aAvoke — and noAv? We had wandered about four or five 
hours after leaving the track, and it Avas not improbable that 
we Avere ten or even fifteen miles from the railroad. Oh! 
God, must Ave die here? What can we do? Oh! Avhat can 
we do? 

Keader, were you ever lost like this? Are you a Christian? 
If not, what must it be, after a life without God and Avilhout 
hope in this world, to be utterly lost, hopelessly lost, and lost 
forever? 

The day wore sloAvly aAvay. The mosquitos had troubled 
us but little during the day, but had left frightful traces of 
their vicious attack during the night. Our faces, hands, 
necks and arms to the elbows, were swollen and feverish. We 
had removed our shoes to rest our tired feet, and so our feet 
were swollen too, and oh! so sore. The next morning we de- 
cided that to remain where we were would be useless, so we 
began to Avander about. Our provisions gave out and Ave had 
to subsist on such fruits as Ave could find, frequently eating 


22 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


tbings we had never seen nor heard of before. Hunger must 
be satisfied. Then came the worst — we got sick, doubtless 
from the strange fruits we had eaten. Four more days passed 
and oh! the horror of those long nights, when we lay with 
white faces and fever scorched bodies, tossing on the ground ; 
it makes me shudder as I think of it even now. 

On the morning of the seventh day (Thursday), while Rob- 
ert, who seemed to withstand the hardships better than Her- 
man and I, had by almost superhuman effort, climbed a ba- 
nana tree in search of food for breakfast, we heard in the far 
distance the whistle of a locomotive. No angel’s voice could 
have sounded sweeter than did that shrill whistle. Robert let 
himself drop and we ran in the direction of the sound. We 
eould not hear the train, but again the whistle rang out 
clearly and more distinctly. We hastened on; now we 
thought we heard the faint rumbling of the train. Again we 
heard the whistle, but less distinct. On, on we pressed, 
through almost impassable thickets, through stagnant pools 
of water, over rough hills — on, on, until perhaps two hours 
were passed, when we found the track. Exhausted, out of 
breath, covered with mud and wet with perspiration, we sank 
down on the cross ties, hugged the rails and wept. The 
words “thank God!” swelled up from my heart and I seemed 
to utter them almost unconsciously. “Yes,” said Herman, 
“thank God, ah! thank God!” Robert felt it as deeply as 
Herman and I. After some moments of rest and thought, 
new hopes dispelled despair as darkness vanishes before light 
More than once we had given up to die, but now with new 
hope we felt returning strength. Not heeding the sun which 
shed its scorching rays down on our heads, we trudged along 
the track. “Who is that?” cried Robert, startled and sud- 
denly halting. On ahead of us we now saw a man emerging 
from the woods and coming toward us. As he came nearer, 
the stranger, for such he was indeed to us, proved to be a 
tall, heavy set negro, whose only apparel consisted of a broad 
brimmed hat and something like a handkerchief tied around 
his waist. As he came close to us a broad grin spread over 
bis face and he spoke to us, but we could not understand 
what he said. We tried to find out from him the distance to 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


23 


Panama, but in vain, as he could no more understand us than 
we could him. At last he seemed to catch the idea that we 
were bound for Panama and the grin on his face broadened. 
“Panama, si, sigQor, Panama.” talking and pointing in the 
direction whence we had come. Then we thought and the 
truth dawned upon us that we had started back to Colon. 
““Why, of course,” I said, “ did we not leave the railroad go- 
ing toward the left, and should we not have turned to the left 
when we found the track again? why, certainly.” Disheart- 
ened again for a moment, we turned round and started in the 
right direction. The stranger, who seemed kindly disposed, 
walked on with us for some little time, grinning and nodding 
at us now and then, but he soon increased his pace and grad- 
ually we lost sight of him. The next evening (Friday) we met 
more travelers, some coming and others going in the same 
direction as ourselves. We also met two dark-skinned men, 
perhaps Mexicans, who kindly divided food with us, which, 
though it tasted strangely, we relished and appreciated more 
than we could express. They also gave us some drink which 
tasted like wine, and that did us much good. Saturday wore 
away. We passed some roughly constructed sheds, in which, 
however, people lived. They sold us some bread and codfish. 
About sundown we could plainly see the church spires and 
some roofs of houses and we knew that we were approaching 
Panama. Delighted with the prospect, we partly forgot our 
past troubles. To our right, some two or three miles from 
the city, was a large, clear pond. Here we decided to camp 
over night and enter the city in the morning. 

We selected a large tree, sat down under its branches, ate 
the remainder of some bread and salted codfish, and planned 
for the future. Night came qn. After dark we took a good 
bath in the pond (we needed it) and laid down to sleep. New 
life and new hopes brought new animation. The twinkling 
stars peeped brightly through the branches of the tree, and 
we slept more peacefully than we had since leaving our ship. 


24 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


CHAPTER IV. 

PANAMA JAIL. 

We were awake bright and early. It was Sunday morning. 
The fresh sea breeze that fans the isthmus from a little be- 
fore sundown till an hour or two after sunrise next morning, 
is delightful. We put on our last clean shirt and extra pair 
of pants (having thrown away our coats long since, as they 
became cumbersome and in that country useless) and started 
for the “New Jerusalem ” We entered the city by eight 
o’clock. Our directions from the baker told us to inquire for 
the Grand Hotel and see the proprietor, who, he said, would 
be almost sure to give us employment or assist us in getting a 
situation elsewhere. 

Panama, a city of twelve or fifteen thousand inhabitants,, 
looked at that time (before the great fire of 1874) more like 
an Oriental than an American town. Churches abounded, 
one on nearly every street. In the center of the city stands 
the cathedral about which many impossible legends are told. 
The cathedral and churches are scarcely what would be con- 
sidered beautiful, yet the architecture, adorned here and 
there by some really fine sculpturing, both inside and out, is 
both quaint and interesting. The houses have flat roofs and 
the people indulge in the Oriental custom of spending their 
evenings in the flower gardens on the house tops, where the 
sea breeze makes it very pleasant. But few houses were more 
than two stories high. Altogether, the town had an aspect 
that reminded me of the pictures in an old family Bible and 
in a book of “ Travels in the Holy Land,” which my father 
once presented me as a Christmas gift. These are about the 
impressions the city of Panama made upon me. 

We walked briskly through the narrow streets, stopping 
occasionally to try and inquire our way, but all whom we 
asked for information seemed to have previously determined 
not to understand us. We had reached the square and stop- 
ped to admire some points about the cathedral, when I was 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


25 


attracted by the largest building we had yet seen. It was a 
three-story building and stood just across the street from the 
cathedral. In front was a sign board with the words ‘‘La 
Grand Hotel,” in gilded letters. I called the boys’ attention 
to it and Herman said: “that’s her; come on, and let’s see 
what we can do.” His face brightened as he said this, and 
full of hope, we crossed the street. We entered by the side 
door and were at first pushed aside by some of the negro por- 
ters, but as we rather persisted in entering and called for Mr. 
Loewe, they at last admitted us and we were met by the stew- 
ard, who was a kind of first mate in the hotel. He was a 
German, and oh! what a relief to speak and be understood. 
He left us standing in the hallway and after a minute’s ab- 
sence, returned. “Come here,” he said and we followed him 
to Mr. Loewe’s ofiice. At last we stood face to face with the 
man in whom were vested all our great expectations. Mr. 
Loewe, though busy, turned to look at us. He was a large 
man, weighing perhaps two hundred pounds, not very tall, 
with a full, round, smoothly shaven face, and “not a hair be- 
tween him and heaven.” It was a kindly face, with twinkling 
blue eyes. “Good morning,” he said in reply to our greet- 
ing, and then inspected us closely for some minutes before 
continuing, “what do you wish, and what can I do for you?” 
His manner and tone invited our confidence and we told him 
our whole story about running away, getting lost and all; 
then asked if he could give us employment of some kind, as 
we would willingly do anything that was honest and would 
try our best to please him. He listened to us attentively and 
when we had finished our story he thought a moment, then a 
smile lit up his pleasant face and he tapped a bell. “ Have 
you boys had any breakfast?” he asked. “No, sir.” “Well,” 
he continued, as a negro porter entered the office, “ this por- 
ter will get you something to eat. You can come back here 
for dinner and supper, and stay here to-night. Call at my 
office in the morning and I’ll see what can be done.” Then 
turning, he gave the porter some instructions in Spanish (the 
language spoken in Panama). “ Now you may go.” Follow- 
ing the porter, we found ourselves directly in the great kitchen 
of the hotel. The cook, an old, good natured German whose 


26 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


name was Jakob (pronounced Yawcob), received us with 
much interest and after hearing the instructions from the 
porter, spread before us a feast that was worthy of a king, 
and we partook of it as heartily as any king could have done. 

We spent most of 'the day with our new friend Jakob, who, 
as it was Sunday, took us for a walk in the afternoon. While 
walking down one of the principal streets we were suddenly 
stopped by Jakob, who said: “ Wait, boys, here’s the bishop. 
Take off your hats till he passes by.” This, like a great many 
other things we saw, was new to us. We stood on the corner 
while a quaint procession came down a crossing street. First 
came two boys arrayed in white robes and red caps. They 
carried censers with smoking incense. Then came the Bishop 
of Panama, the “ Old Father,” as he was familiarly called, 
arrayed in his official robe and huge three-story crown. Over 
him a canopy of blue and gold, beautifully wrought, and sup- 
ported by four silver wands, was carried by four men. Fol- 
lowing the bishop came a group of priests and monks, chant- 
ing dolefully, and then came a crowd of people of all sizes 
and ages. The people on both sides of the street stopped, 
took off their hats and bowed their heads ; some few knelt 
until the procession passed solemnly by. This was a scene 
that passed twice every Sunday and occasionally on a week 
day through the principal streets of Panama. The people of 
Panama, made up mostly of Spaniards and Mexicans mixed 
considerably with Negroes, Indians and Coolies, were, if not 
very intelligent, at least a very devout people, thoroughly 
Catholic, and seemed hospitable and kind to strangers. Cer- 
tainly what few people we got acquainted with were very kind 
to us. 

Monday morning we reported at the office of Mr. Loewe. 
He invited us in, called the steward and turned us over to him 
to be put to work. Herman and Kobert were sent to the 
kitchen as dishwashers, and I was sent up to the second floor 
as hall boy and mail carrier. The steward told me my duties 
which were about like this: Be at my office, which was a 
small room or closet at the head of the main stair case, by 6 
o’clock in the morning, sweep the hall and stair case (no 
small task as the weather was dry and dusty), fill the water 






“IN THE LOCK-UP.” 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


27 


coolers, eight in number, and keep them filled during the day. 
At 9 o’clock A. M. and at 3 and 6 r. m. gather up all letters 
and mail matter and take it to the post office, nearly a mile 
from the hotel, and bring back each time the hotel mail. 

We soon learned our duties and for the time were quite 
content if not really happy. Nearly a week passed when one 
morning, soon after breakfast, Mr. Loewe sent for me. As I 
entered the oflSce I found Herman and Robert there also. 
Beside Mr. Loewe sat a gentleman who eyed us keenly. 
■“These are the boys,” said Mr. Loewe. “Aha! yes,” re- 
l^lied the strange, gentleman, who proved to be the German 
Consul, “I have been on the lookout for you boys for more 
than two weeks. Captain Hebicht of the Borussia telegraphed 
me about you, but I could not catch you and had given up the 
hope of finding you until Mr. Loewe spoke of you this morn- 
ing.” Then he motioned to the door and in came two police- 
men who promptly took each of us by the arm, and after a 
short walk in this affectionate style we were — locked up in jail. 

The apartment in which we found ourselves contained noth- 
ing but the four walls, the ceiling, the floor and — we three. 
Opposite the door there had once been a window, but now 
only the frame remained and it was nailed up with an old di- 
lapidated shutter. The building was two stories high and had 
two rooms on each floor, with a hall and stairway between. 
It looked like an ex-residence rather than a prison, but what- 
ever it had been, it was now a prison. After being pushed 
into this, not at all politely, we remained standing near the 
door for some time. Then Robert broke the silence. He 
walked to the middle of the room, took off his new Panama 
j hat, threw it violently on the floor and burst into tears. I 
felt my own tears flow down my cheeks. Herman walked into 
I a corner and sat down. “I’ve— I’ve done nothing, none of 
us have,” sobbed Robert, “and they’ve no right to put us 
here — and I — I won’t stay here — boo — o-o.” With that he 
j walked to the door and knocked at it heavily and called out at 
I the top of his voice, “let me out, let me out. I won’t stay 

j here no, I won’t. Let me out and I’ll have this darned old 

town boo— 0 - 0 .” To all this there came no answer and 

I poor Robert, like the rest of us, decided to stay. All was 

t 


28 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


quiet in the house and seemingly we were the only inmates. 
At ten o’clock (the church bells strike every half hour so that 
clocks and watches are almost superfluous) we heard foot- 
steps below; they came up stairs, the rusty lock creaked and 
a negro policeman entered the door. He carried a basket 
which he deposited on the floor, then looked at us, grinned, 
and took out of his basket six large, hard crackers, weighing- 
about a half pound each, then a half gallon tin bucket, filled 
with coarse brown sugar, and put them on the floor. He also 
brought in a large tin bucket of water, then grinned at u» 
again, spoke some words of Spanish, to which Herman re- 
plied “get out,” and our visitor went as he had come, leaving: 
the aforesaid articles at our mercy. Robert had no mercy, 
but made a lunge at the crackers and kicked them about the 
floor. I saved the sugar from his violence, then he rushed at 
the water bucket and— took the cup and drank three cups, 
full. We all drank freely of the water, it was good, and that 
is not always the case in Panama. Water is scarce and is. 
peddled about on the streets, and most of the people bought 
water every day as we buy milk in our towns and cities. By 
12 o’clock we had become calm, and took up some of the- 
crackers and a handful of sugar, and made that server 
for our dinner. In the evening, promptly at six o'clock, the 
same visitor returned, deposited the same kind of articles as. 
in the morning, the same in quantity and in quality, grinned 
the same kind of a grin, spoke some more words which he 
seemed to understand and then left us, locking the door be- 
hind him. We talked but little during the day and less dur- 
ing the night. The floor was hard and so were our heads, so 
we did not sleep till towards morning. The room was almost 
dark, but the cracks in the walls and about the defunct window, 
the building being a frame structure, admitted plenty of air. 

The second day passed like the first. The same visitor 
returned at the usual hours with the usual articles and the 
usual grin. On the evening of the third day, Herman called 
us close to him and said, “Boys, I’ve an idea. I’ve studied 
our situation closely ever since we came. Do you think there 
is anybody about this place at night?” “No, I think not,’” 
I replied. “Well, I am sure there is not; I am sure, loo. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


29 


that this is not the regular jail, but some old shanty used as a 
temporary lock-up. Look here,” he continued, with more 
than his usual earnestness, “I’ve an idea. Come close to 
me and I’ll talk in a whisper.” Then in a whisper he told us 
his idea, and it made me start. Robert doubtfully shook his 
head, but we both had learned to trust Herman implicitly, 
and would have followed him anywhere. “Well,” Herman 
said again after a pause, “what do you say?” “ Fred,” said 
Robert to me, “let’s do it, yes; let’s go.” I needed no 
further persuasion and our plot was agreed upon. 

We laid down as usual, one in each corner, as we had done 
the night before, but did not go to sleep. The cathedral 
<}lock struck twelve, and within plain hearing twenty or thirty 
church bells tolled the same hour. Our room was pitch dark. 
“ Grive me your knife,” whispered Herman right at my ear. 
I started, for I had not heard him come across the floor. 
However, I raised up and handed him my knife. Then he 
whispered: “ Get Robert and both of you come to the win- 
dow, but don’t talk or make any noise.” When Robert and 
I, feeling our way along the wall, reached the window, we 
found Herman cutting away at the shutter with all his might. 
“Here,” he said, taking Robert by the hand, “hold this side 
of the shutter; hold it steady, and I’ll cut the other side.” 
Away he whittled. Having thoroughly studied the thing 
during the day, and knowing just where to cut, he soon had it 
flnished. “Here’s your knife. Come and help me now; hold 
this side,” he said, placing my hands just where I could get a 
good hold. Then he got between us, took hold on each side 
of the shutter, and told us to “let go.” He pushed the 
shutter out a little, turned it edgewise, drew it in and laid it 
on the floor without an audible sound. All three of us 
looked out of the window. It was cloudy and dark — good 
for us — and not a sound could be heard. “ Boys,” said Her- 
man, drawing us close to himself, “ Now, I don’t want to go 
unless you are both willing.” Both Robert and I wanted to 
go. “ Well, then, follow me. I know the way to the woods, 
and we’ll take care not to get lost again.” With that, he 
lowered his body slowly, holding with his hands to the 
window-sill. “ Here we go,” and thud, he struck the ground. 


30 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


Robert went, I followed. It was some ten or twelve feet to 
the ground, but we landed safely and ran for the woods.. 
Herman seemed to know the way and we followed him in 
silence, running along an open road for a mile or so until 
we were well in the woods; then we slackened our pace a 
little and left the road. On through thickets and open ground 
we rushed. At last we halted on a small hill crowned by a 
few palm trees with no undergrowth. Excited and panting 
for breath, we sat down under a tree. We were bareheaded, 
and Robert had lost one of his shoes, and his bare foot was- 
badly hurt but not sprained. “We are free once more, but 
what can we do next?” “Wait,” said Herman, “I have 
thought about that, and will tell you in the morning.” A 
bright flash of lightning hissed through the darkness, followed' 
by a deep roll of thunder! It was about the time for the 
rainy season to begin, and it was generally introduced by 
severe thunder storms. The clouds were thick and black, 
and rushed over the tree-tops as if mad. The lightning^ 
flashed again and the thunder came nearer and grew louder. 
Now it began to rain, for which the people in Panama 
thanked God, but which was rather unwelcome to us. The 
rain increased till it literally poured down ; the lightning^ 
glared frightfully; the thunder shook the earth, and the wind 
howled and moaned. Here and there a tree broke off with a 
crash or was torn up by the roots and hurled away. What a 
night! We were wringing wet and the water streamed down 
our backs. We crept close together and shivered with cold. 
At last the wind ceased, the lightning grew fainter and the 
deep-toned thunder rolled away in the distance. Still the 
rain continued until nearly daybreak. When the sun rose 
clear and bright, nature, with her clean face and fresh dress, 
smiled us a cheery good morning. Though there had been no 
rain for months, the sun was never more appreciated than he 
was by us that morning. We went out into an open place, 
keeping a close lookout for any possible invaders, then pulled 
off our clothing and spread them out to dry while we took a 
bath in a pool of water near by. When our clothes were 
dry we put them on again and gathered together for a consul- 
tation. Herman did most of the “consulting,” and in sub- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


31 


stance proposed about the following: “Let’s find the railroad 
track and go as far as the pond, where we roosted the last 
night before entering the city of Panama, and strike a camp 
there. During the night we can steal our way to the hotel 
and see Jakob, who, I am sure, will give us something to 
eat. Let’s see how much money we have.” After counting 
up our wealth, we aggregated a sum total of about thirteen 
dollars. “That will go a long ways,” said Herman, “and 
maybe we can catch a steamer to San Francisco before long.” 
“Yes,” interrupted Robert, “let’s go to California. Tbat’s 
the gold country, and I’ve heard that if you go out into the 
mountains there you can just find great lumps of gold lying 
around on the ground.” I had also heard some marvelous 
stories and was about to pour out my information, when 
Herman interrupted by rising and saying: “Come on, let’s 
find the pond first and fix up a camp. Then we can talk all 
we want to.” With that we arose and made our way as best 
we could in the direction where we knew we must strike the 
railroad. We had no difficulty in finding the track, though it 
was much further than we thought. 

About dark we ventured near the city in search of a fruit 
stand. We walked along separately but kept in sight of each 
other. We soon found a fruit stand and bought some barley 
bread, some cooked codfish and a pint bottle of wine. Some 
heavy clouds appeared, but it did not rain. When the rainy 
season sets in, generally about the middle of June, it rains 
almost constantly and lasts from five to eight weeks. It was 
time for it now and it was sorely needed. During the annual 
rainy season, the city reservoirs, private cisterns, etc., are 
filled, and ordinarily the supply lasts until the next rainy 
season. It rarely rains betweens the seasons. Spring water 
is always scarce and is sold on the streets. Some of the 
water boys and girls carried a large jar containing two or 
three gallons on their heads, while those who could afford a 
business on a larger scale had a donkey, on whose back four 
large jars were strapped. Children seemed mostly to carry 
on this line of business. The water sold at about ten or 
fifteen cents per gallon. These water carriers had to go many 
miles to get their supplies. In times when the city reservoirs. 


32 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


which were public, gave out, it was a profitable business, 
water sometimes selling as high as a dollar per gallon. Some 
poor people came to our pond to get water while it was cool; 
the water was shallow and soon became heated after the sun 
was up; besides, having no outlet, it was more or less stag- 
nant and really unfit to drink. Last night’s rain had helped 
the pond, and the pools and wells in the city were nearly 
filled this morning. 

We decided not to go to-night, nor the next night, but on 
the third night after making our escape we ventured to the 
hotel. We succeeded in entering the back yard, and went to 
Jakob’s room without meeting anyone. Poor old Jakob was 
quite frightened when we woke him up, but he laughed 
heartily when we told him how we got away from the lockup. 
Truly, Jakob was a real friend, a good man, with a heart as 
tender and loving as a child’s. He had made inquiries, but 
could find out nothing as to what was to be done with us. 
He did not know of our escape until we told him. After 
talking more than hour, he went to the kitchen and returned 
with a tin pail full of eatables and drinkables. Then, after 
an understanding that we were to come and see him every 
other night, we left him. We spent our time as best we 
could. We made a little house out of poles and brush and 
covered it .with palm leaves, and really enjoyed the stay in 
our “ country villa.” 

We made our fourth visit to our protector. He met us 
with delight, talked out loud and lit the gas as we entered 
his room. “Boys, you’re all right now,” he said; “you can 
stay. The steward saw the consul yesterday, who said that 
he hoped you had happened to no harm, and as he had 
received no further instructions, the Borussia having left 
Colon long since, he don’t care where you go.” We were so 
delighted that we could hardly believe it; but evidently it was 
true, for we were reinstalled next morning. As I met the 
steward, he assured me of the truth as to the German Consul 
and I resumed my duties. So did Herman and Robert. 
Most of our guests left and in a few days it began to rain, 
and it rained and rained and rained. Weeks went by and 
still it rained. 


. THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


33 


CHAPTER V. 

THE HOSPITAL. 

“Here, young man, polish my shoes for me, and I’ll give 
you a dime!” The gentleman who thus addressed me seemed 
in a hurry, so 1 stopped sweeping, gave him a shine, and 
got my dime. By the way, this was not the first dime I had 
made that way. Some days I made as much as a dollar, 
which augmented my salary, eight dollars a month, considera- 
bly. Several “regulars” (boarders by the month) became 
my permanent customers, and I polished their shoes every 
morning for fifty cents per week. One evening nearly a 
hundred guests came in from a ’Frisco Line steamer. 
Some were bound for Europe, but most of them for the 
United States, and they had to stay in Panama from three 
days to a week waiting for their respective steamers. From 
some cause the hotel location and facilities were lacking at 
Colon. This evening there was much to do and my new 
specialty flourished. I used to take my box of brushes 
from door to door, but found this plan troublesome; so one 
morning I thought I’d try a new plan. Hurrying through 
with my sweeping, I gathered all my shoes and carried them 
to my oflGice, piled them close around me, and went to work 
with a will. Seventeen pairs of shoes — fine business for one 
morning and only about thirty minutes of time. At last the 
task was finished, and how much more comfortably and 
quickly done than by the old plan I I put away my brushes, 
looked at my work with the pride of an artist, then picked 
up a pair of fine, light boots and two pairs of gaiters which 
belonged to three of my “regulars,” took them to their 
respective doors and hurried back for a second load for distri- 
bution. I had some trouble in finding the right places. Return- 
ing for the third time I looked long and earnestly at each 
pair and thought: Alas and alas! how true was that little 
boy who defined memory as “the thing you forgot with.” 
The best I could do was to guess, and I guessed, placing the 


34 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


shoes outside the doors where I thought I had found them. 
To avoid any unpleasant interviews, I went into my oflSce 
and locked the door from the inside and listened. I had not 
long to wait, for directly a door opened and a voice called 
out in German: “Du Yunge!’^ Of course, I did not hear. 
Another door opened and a Spanish voice called out: 
“ Mucharcho-ho, mucharcho !” Another door opened, then 
another, and another; voices speaking different languages 
called and asked questions, all of which I did not mean to 
hear. I sat on my box with my ear to the door, and heard 
the gentlemen walk about like barefooted boys, some fussing,, 
some laughing, but all mad. I was afraid to move. At last 
the breakfast bell rung, and while the guests went down 
stairs, I crawled out of my hiding-place and went to Jakob. 
There was some complaint, but soon it was passed as a joke. 
I lost most of my pay. I asked for none that morning. 
Still a few of my victims paid me as they met me in the hall 
that evening. This came near ruining my business, but soon 
it was forgotton, and as new guests came every day I soon 
had new customers. Herman and Robert, too, had opportu- 
nities to make an extra dime here and there; besides, they 
were getting twelve dollars a month. 

The rainy season still continued. It had been raining for 
perhaps three weeks, when one morning I felt so bad that I 
could scarcely finish my morning duties. I had not been well 
for several days. After breakfast (I had eaten none) I sat 
on the main stairway waiting for some office mail, when 
the steward noticed me and said: “ What’s the matter, boy? 
Are you sick?” “I fear I am,” I replied, and continued: 
“ If you will excuse me from my work to-day, I think a little 
rest will help me and I’ll be all right by to-morrow morning.’^ 
“ Let me see your tongue,” said the steward. He looked at 
it and also felt my pulse. “Boy, you’ve got the fever; 
saying that he left me. Mr. Loewe came from the office, 
spoke kindly to me, also examined my tongue and felt my 
pulse, and told me that I had better go to the fever hospital. 
“ The Panama fever is contagious and there is a good deal of 
it in the city, and we must try to keep it out of the hotel. 1 
am sorry,” continued Mr. Loewe, “but that will be the 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


35 


best, and as soon as you are well come back here.” I went 
into the kitchen and told the boys. They both wanted to go 
with me. Jakob expressed his sympathy without saying a 
word; then the steward came in and another man with him. 
The fever, the excitement, the dread of being separated from 
these two boys, were too much. I sank down on the floor, 
and they carried me into the ambulance and drove to the 
hospital. I remember nothing about arriving at the hospital^ 
but the next morning I seemed to awake from a long, terrible 
dream. I became fully conscious, and opening my eyes I saw 
a tall, lean negro man dressed in white shirt and pants. He 
had probably roused me, but now he seemed busy with the 
patient next to me, though he turned to look at me every 
few minutes. I noticed several of these attendants, all 
dressed in white and barefooted, so that they glided about 
between the cots without the least sound. They looked ta 
me like ghosts as I watched them go from place to place 
between the four rows of little cots that extended the full 
length of the long hall. The man next to me turned and 
shook me by my shoulder as if afraid that I would go to sleep 
again. I was, oh! so sick. My bones ached as if they were 
breaking into pieces. My head throbbed as if it would 
burst, and I felt as if 1 was burning up. Then the man 
turned round, straightened my scanty bedding, felt my pulse,, 
wiped my face and bathed my head — and that felt so good; 
then he rubbed my feet a few minutes and threw a soiled 
blanket over them, covering me to the knees. Then he 
tackled the poor fellow to my left, a Chinaman, who groaned 
pitifully and seemed very sick. The man to my right had his 
face covered with wet cloths, and I could not see his color till 
the doctor came, attended by a man, who removed the cover- 
ing from my right-hand neighbor and revealed the mulatto 
face. They came to me ; the attendant raised me up roughly. 
I remember the doctor’s speaking to me, but I could neither 
understand nor speak myself to answer him. I grew dizzy; 
a mist fell over my eyes, and for two days and nights follow- 
ing I remember nothing. On the evening of the third day I 
found myself conscious again. I heard the attendant come 
near to me on his evening round. Now he was with the 


36 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


mulatto to my right: then he came to me, gave me some 
medicine, put fresh cold cloths on my head, rubbed my feet — 
all done mechanically and in silence. Then he went to the 
Chinaman to my left, looked at him for a moment, then 
stepped into the aisle and motioned to some other attendant, 
who came rapidly across the hall, and together they wrapped 
the Chinaman in his sheet and carried him out. The poor 
fellow was dead. Then followed the longest night of my life. 
I was conscious most of the time but very sick. I heard men 
every now and then cry out as if in great agony. Some talked 
all night long, others uttered the most heartrending moans I 
ever heard. I feared I was dying. The most horrible fancies 
and forebodings took possession of me. Toward morning I 
fell into a restless, troubled sleep, from which I was awakened 
by steps coming down the aisle nearest to me. Two attend- 
ants were carrying out a dead man. Then they returned and 
carried out another and another, till I counted thirteen who 
had died alone, unknown, during that night. Oh, God! must 
I die here? How the memories of childhood, our quiet and 
happy home life, rushed through my mind and reproached 
me. If Herman and Robert could only come that I might 
speak once more and be understood, but to die here alone — 
utterly alone — was unbearable. The usual morning rounds 
passed. Then came the doctor and his assistant. The doctor 
sat down beside me for a few minutes and watched me closely. 
He put his ear to my left side and tried to ask me some ques- 
tions, but I failed to understand him. Then he rose and went 
to the man on my left. A negro had taken the place left 
vacant by the death of the poor, suffering Chinaman. I don’t 
remember when he was brought in. 

The doctor had scarcely left me when I saw a woman across 
the hall ; perhaps he had called her, for some cause she came 
toward me. She was dressed in black, with a white covering 
over her head and shoulders — a Sister of Charity. She sat 
down beside me, put her hand on my forehead — how soft and 
tender it felt — readjusted the wet cloth on my head, and 
spoke to me in French. I answered as best I could in French 
that I was German. Then, oh, joy! the sweetest music I 
ever heard could not compare with the voice that now fell on 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


37 


my ear. She spoke to me ia my own loved mother tongue ! 
“Hush,” she said gently, “you must not talk. I’ll talk to 
you, and when you get well you can talk to me. The doctor 
says you are better this morning, and I am so glad to find you, 
poor boy, and wish I could have found you sooner; but,” she 
continued, as she wiped away my tears and gently stroked my 
face, “you must take good care of yourself. Don’t worry. 
God is good and the Saviour loves you, and if you trust in 
Him, as I hope you do, you will soon be well.” She contin- 
ued to talk to me so gentle, so sweet, that I felt as if God had 
sent an angel from heaven. I fell asleep — a peaceful, quiet, 
refreshing sleep. When I awoke, the angel still sat by me 
gently fanning me, and looked as if she had anticipated my 
awaking. For three days and nights that woman sat beside 
my bed. I got better; then she only stayed with me an hour 
or two in the morning and the evening, and seemed as much 
interested now in others as in me. Each time she came she 
brought me something — a little wine, some choice fruit or 
some wholesome, strengthening food. She talked to me 
about my home people, wrote a long letter to mother and 
signed herself simply as “Your boy’s friend.” Indeed, she 
was a friend to me; she saved my life. I was now able to be 
up and walk about a little, and was transferred into the 
convalescent hall. Here the angel, as I loved to call her, 
was well known by all the patients. She was a woman 
between forty and fifty years of age, so motherly and so kind 
to everybody. As she could not give to everybody, nor even 
wait on every patient, there being two hundred, I saw less 
and less of her as I grew better. Oh! how I missed her. 
Herman and Robert (perhaps good Jakob did really most of 
it) now sent me every day such food and fruits as the doctor 
would permit. Poor boys! They had inquired every day 
while I was so sick, and each time tried to send me something 
but were refused. Even money could not be sent me until I 
came into the convalescent hall. 

At last I felt well enough to leave. On the morning of 
my discharge from the hospital, I waited until the angel 
came. She put her arms about me and kissed me as tenderly 
as- my own mother could have done. “No,” she replied to 


38 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


my request, “you can not come to see me. We shall never 
meet again till we meet in heaven. Good-bye, my boy; be a 
good man; be a Christian/’ With that I left her, and I have 
never seen her since. I never even knew her name, and all 
subsequent inquiries about her were in vain. I have now for 
years been a Christian, a Baptist and a minister of the gospel, 
but through all these years this short acquaintance, this disin- 
terested friendship and true sympathy in an hour of greatest 
need, this angel who came to me in that sad place, kas been 
to me one of the greatest blessings of my life, and surely I ex- 
pect to meet her in that sweet bye-and-bye. 


CHAPTER Yl. 

NEW COMRADES AND NEW ADVENTURES. 

As I passed through the big gates I found Herman waiting 
for me in the gate keeper’s room. I had sent him word that 
I would be discharged this morning. Dear old boy — he had 
hired a cab and had come after me. Robert wanted to come 
too, but was detained. It was still raining and we drove 
rapidly to the hotel, some two miles distant. Arriving there, 
I had a warm welcome from the boys and our friend Jakob. 
Mr. Loewe sent for me, gave me two dollars and told me to 
resume my duties when I was able. Even the steward, though 
generally cold and distant, seemed interested as he shook my 
hand warmly. That evening I wrote a long letter to my moth- 
er, the first, I regret to say, that I had written. I was still 
weak, but in a few days gathered strength enough to be re- 
installed in my office. The rainy season ended and in a few 
weeks I found myself in better health than I had been, perhaps 
for years. This is generally the case after having the dread- 
ful Panama fever, if you get over it. Weeks passed by without 
any special occurrence. One evening, about the middle of 
August, another run away crowd came to the hotel. They 
were a party of four men, two of whom were Swedes, one a 




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THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


39 


Frenchman and one a Spaniard. Mr. Loewe told them that 
they might remain for awhile and put them to work in the 
yard. Old man Jakob took quite an interest in them as he 
had taken in us, and saw that they were well quartered in a 
wing of the building occupied by the white employes. The 
negroes occupied a separate wing of the building cornering on 
the back yard. We all helped to see them fixed up with such 
comforts as were available. The first evening we spent mostly 
in getting acquainted. Anton was the older of the two Swedes 
and the younger (who had some long unpronouncable name) 
we simply called Swede. The other two we called BigFrenchy 
and Little Frenchy; they both spoke French and a little 
broken English. The Swedes could speak German and also 
had some smattering knowledge of English. As we all desired 
to learn English, we adopted that as our standard. It would 
have been highly interesting and amusing to my reader to 
have heard us in our evening entertainments, seated on boxes 
or on the floor, chairs being scarce, with canvas cots looking 
more like hammocks than bedsteads, grouped promiscuously 
about the room and old Jakob presiding, the room looked more 
like a ship’s forecastle than a hotel apartment. 

This was about an evening’s programme: 

Herman. “I say you, what ship you left?” 

Swede. “Yes, ship run away we!” 

Anton. “Yes, English steamer, coal steamer!” 

Robert. “Steamer Borussia we run away. Bad steamer, 
I)ad boatswain, mean, lick me every day!” (All laugh.) 

Big Frenchy. “Give me fire, light my pipe more! ” 

Swede. “Yes; give me pipe, me smoke.” 

Big Frenchy. “No, me smoke, you fire me.” 

Little Frenchy. “Want to go to San Francisco— plenty 
money. Come, we go all.” 

Big Frenchy. “Yes; we go all. San Francisco, good 
place, plenty ships, good to eat, good money, all gold.” 

For some time we discussed California, till Jakob, fast 
asleep, fell from his box. We picked him up and retired to 
our separate rooms. Jakob had a room to himself which we 
called “Jacob’s Hole,” and in which we held all our meetings. 
Herman, Robert and I occupied the room next to him, and 


40 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


our four new comrades were lodged in the corner room, 
Panama was getting monotonous to us and we were getting^ 
tired of the humdrum life at the hotel. These newcomers 
had brought new ideas, and we were getting restless for somo 
new adventures. Jakob admitted that Panama was no per- 
manent abiding place for a young man, but he was more 
interested in Mexico than California. He argued that Cali- 
fornia was no longer a new country, while Mexico was. 
California was settled and the gold mines overrun with miners 
and speculators, but Mexico was comparatively undeveloped 
and by far the most promising for young men. Ignorant of 
geography and many other difficulties, Jakob thought that we 
could make our way along the Pacific coast and into Mexico,, 
and that the journey could be made on foot in about fifteen 
or twenty days. Moreover, the country abounded in fruit; 
also small settlements and a few larger towns nestled among- 
the rocks along the coast. Altogether, the thing seemed 
plausible, and the more we talked about it the more plausible 
it appeared, till we decided to undertake it. We made our 
preparations, having had some little experience in that mode 
of traveling, picked up between Colon and Panama. We 
gathered together quite an extensive outfit. To the necessary 
clothing we added ten pounds of salt, a gross of matches, a 
skin bottle of vinegar and a box of pepper; also several 
bottles of anti-fever medicine and a box of pills. We divided 
these articles into three bundles. The Swedes carried one, 
big and little Frenchy another, and Herman, Kobert and I tho 
third. Besides these stores, we were all more or less armed, 
having in all two swords, two guns, four pistols and several 
big knives. I carried two of the pistols and two hundred 
cartridges. After a touching farewell from Jakob, having^ 
already bidden good-bye to Mr. Loewe and the steward the 
evening before, we “set sail” early one Monday morning about 
the last of August. Our road passed by the old lock-up. We 
stopped a moment to have a last look at it. Kobert walked 
across the lot that lay between, took off his hat, put his 
hands against the wall and kissed it with a smack. We 
walked along the same road which we had followed the night 
of our jail delivery. For two days we followed the road as it 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


41 


seemed to be parallel with the coast, but on the third day it 
turned too much inland and we took to the woods, keeping 
within a mile or two of the Pacific Ocean. What fun we had 
hunting and shooting; not anything particular, but just hunt- 
ing and shooting. This was our ideal way of traveling. At 
night we picked out the most elevated place in sight and 
made our camp, a real camp with a big fire. We had been 
out about a week when one evening Little Frenchy cried out 
from some distance ahead of us: “Look out, look out! 
Indians! Indians!” We ran a short distance to where the 
woods were thicker and hid behind trees as best we could. 
After some moments of suspense, I saw at some distance two, 
three, four men peeping from behind trees as we peeped at 
them. I got out both my pistols; they were loaded. “Don’t 
you shoot!” whispered Herman from a tree close to me. 
With almost breathless suspense we waited for the attack; 
but they did not attack us, and gradually it became evident 
to us that those wild men were as frightened as we were. 
Then Anton stepped out from his tree and stopped at a small 
open space where our enemies could plainly see him. I trem- 
bled for his fate but dared not speak to him. He threw down 
his gun and motioned to the strangers, two of whom became 
visible and seemed as entirely unarmed as they were undressed. 
“Come here, all of you,” called Anton to us, and reluctantly 
we came forth, one by one, till we all stood together. The 
Indians also gathered together, five of them. One of them 
then came toward us, stopping about half-way. “You go and 
meet him, Fred,” said Anton to me, “and we’ll see that he 
does not harm you.” So I put up my pistols and timidly 
walked toward him. He was a dark-skinned, straight-haired 
Manilla man. As we met he stretched out his hand toward 
me and grinned. I tried to grin, too, a kind of dry grin I 
fear; but I grinned, and not without grave apprehensions and 
several backward glances at my companions did I give him 
my hand, and he fell on his knees before me. Now our party 
came up to me, as did also the strangers. They were five in 
all and seemed to be hunting, as they carried short knives. 
After our fears were allayed we all sat down together, and 
not being able to converse with our new-found friends, we 


42 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


had a kind of mutual grin all around, which was really so 
amusing that we all laughed long and heartily. When we 
arose they beckoned to us to follow. We did so and after 
walking perhaps two miles, we found where they abode. 
Verily they had no city wherein to dwell. There were some 
twelve or fifteen families, and as many rudely constructed 
sheds covered with palm leaves. As we entered the village, 
motley groups were gathered about brightly blazing fires, over 
which pots were hung; they were preparing supper. All 
jumped up at sight of us, and the children seemed fjightened 
and rolled and tumbled out of sight. After some conversa- 
tion with our guides they all seemed friendly, and a good 
many of them shook hands with us. Then one of our leaders 
showed us to a neat, clean shed, which came nearer resembling 
a house than any of the others, motioned to us in a way that 
seemed to say: “Make yourselves at home,” and we did so. 
They all seemed busy, especially the women, who were half- 
dressed, while the men wore the usual costume of the 
country — a coarse, broad-brimmed hat made of split palm 
leaves, and a kind of knee pants, or rather a cloth tied about 
the waist. The children were mostly naked. We had scarcely 
put down our baggage and made ourselves comfortable, Tvhen 
the same man who had invited us here and who seemed a 
kind of chief among them brought us one of the pots. It was 
a new dish to us, containing rice, plantains, codfish and 
several other (to us unknown) ingredients, all cooked 
together. It tasted good, however, and we ate heartily. 
Later the children started a big fire in the middle of the 
town, the people gathered around it, and the chief invited us 
to come. We squatted down together and completed the 
circle around the fire. We laughed and grinned at them and 
they at us, which seemed about the best that we could do in 
the way of a conversation. At short intervals they passed a 
large skin bottle and a little gourd; then we sang some songs 
and got up and danced for them, much to their delight. We 
afterwards learned that they had never seen a white face 
except a few priests, who had passed through there, hence their 
kneeling when the}" met us, and also'their extreme merriment 
when they saw the dignified priests (as they supposed) singing 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


43 


and dancing. We had a most delightful entertainment, which 
lasted far into the night. The next morning, after a break- 
fast similar to our supper, Big Frenchy said: “Boys, diz waz 
very goode, maybe we stay here long time.” The motion 
was seconded by Robert, but overruled by the majority; so 
we packed our bundles, strapped them on our backs, and as 
we started most of the people shook hands with us. After a 
consultation with my comrades, I decided to give the chief 
one of my pistols and a few cartridges, having but few left 
now myself. He seemed very proud of it. Then we left 
them. They stood for a long time looking after us. We 
could not make ourselves understood by them, and so failed 
to obtain any information about the country, and were 
compelled to guess at our direction. We journeyed on 
through the morning hours admiring the numerous kinds 
of birds which at times came up close to us, and if they 
did not sing as sweetly as the birds of our Northern climes, 
still their beautiful, rich and varied plumage was a constant 
source of delight. 

We had been out three weeks. Occasionally we caught a 
glimpse of the trackless sea, while we picked our way along a 
seeless track. We were getting tired. One evening, while 
groping our way up a gradually sloping hill, our trio had fal- 
len considerably behind the rest of our little company. We 
were discouraged and even when Herman talked about Leta, 
the sweetest girl in Hamburg, “the girl I left behind me” — 
that subject which would brighten me up when most despond- 
ant — yet this evening it failed. On and up we toiled. At last 
Robert said: “Boys, this blamed old hill has got no top. 
Let’s stop here and rest. Hello, there! ” he shouted to the 
crowd ahead. “ Stop, boys, and let’s rest here.” We were 
soon all gathered together. It Avas iioav quite dark and Ave 
were very tired. After eating the last of some bread and 
dried fish, Ave decided to go no further that night and to go to 
bed at once, Avithout the usual fire. Taa^o or three times AA^e 
had really suffered for something to eat, but Ave found small 
native villages here and there and bought such food as they 
had, generally bread made of dry plantains ground into meal, 
or perhaps barley or rice bread and dried codfish. Dried fish 


44 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


is the only meat. In some sections we found squirrels abound- 
ing, also small, wild pigs, very vicious and hard to kill, but 
they are good meat, as we killed several on our way, burnt 
the hair oft them, hung them over the tire and baked them to 
a nice juicy brown. 

“Let’s get to sleep,” I said, and we scattered to select our 
resting places. Big and Little Frenchy went up a little 
higher on the hill, the Swedes went oft to the left, while we 
three groped our way some distance to the right, where we 
found a spreading tree, crawled under it, spread our blanket, 
rolled up in it and went to sleep. I was awakened, in the 
night by Eobert’s snoring. The moon was shining in my face. 
It was very warm and as we made one blanket do for three of 
us, we lay closely huddled together. Eobert lay behind me 
and Herman behind Eobert. When I opened my eyes I saw 
close before me something that made my blood freeze in its 
arteries, my hair rose like bristles, I was speechless and my 
eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. I tried in vain 
to call out. Then I began to kick and kicked Eobert with all 
my might; then I found my breath and let it out in a piercing 
shriek. This awoke Eobert, he rose up suddenly, beheld the 
spectre before us and gave a yell that echoed wildly through 
the woods. Herman rose up with “I say, hush! what do 
you — ” then his scream rent the air seemingly powerful enough 
to wake the dead — but it did’nt, for there before us lay the 
perfect, bleached skeleton of a man; the skull was turned 
toward the left, looking right at me as I awoke; the right arm 
lay across the body and the left stretched out toward us and 
almost touched us as we lay down. For some moments we 
sat there clutching each other and as if frozen to the ground. 
The moon shed her full light on the spectre before us and it 
was the most ghastly sight I ever beheld. As soon as we could 
move we moved, and moved quickly, leaving baggage and 
blanket behind. We called loudly for our companions. They 
too, though somewhat prepared, were horrified at the sight. 
For months — aye, for years — this ghost-like apparition haunted 
my dreams, and even now, after twenty-three years, it makes 
me shudder. Slowly the hours wore away. It is needless to 
say that we slept no more that night and after that night’s 



THE SKELETON. 


s 

♦ 

I 

.( 











THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


45 


experience we all kept close together, and thoroughly investi- 
gated our beds before we lay down to sleep. 

Three days later we were all awakened by Little Frenchy, 
who shouted and danced about, saying: “Come oopi come 
oopi lookey! lookey! see! a housey, big housey, come, we all 
go on see him!” Sure enough, there not far from us on a pla- 
teau near the beach, was a tiled roof covering a long, low, 
whitewashed house. Smoke curled from the chimney and 
hung in a cloud over the building. Even Big Frenchy seemed 
glad, though he never grew tired of our roving life and had 
by silent consent become our captain. Less than an hour’s 
walk brought us to the place. Four or five dogs barked and 
came tearing toward us as we approached, but a man’s voice 
called to them sternly and they stopped. Now the man 
emerged from an enclosure, a tall, stout man, full beard, bare 
headed, and dressed in coarse but clean white shirt and pants. 
He stopped and gazed at us. No wonder, for we must have 
appeared to him much more like a band of robbers than a 
IDarty of tourists. He looked as if he expected a “hands up,” 
or something worse, when Anton took oft his hat and said 
“ good morning, sir,” as politely as he knew how, then stepped 
up to him and offered his hand, smiling as he did so. Slowly 
the man began to realize that we would not hurt him, his face 
grew calm, his eyes sparkled, and he took Anton’s hand. To 
his inquiry in Spanish, Anton replied in a mixture of Swed- 
ish, German and broken bits of English, that we were travel- 
ers and would like very much to have something good to eat 
and would pay him for it. We learned then that he was a 
Hollander and could speak German and a fairly good English 
(better than ours), and also a tolerably good Spanish (also 
better than ours). When he had entirely gotten over his 
fright (and he admitted that he was at first terribly fright- 
ened) he asked us to come into the house and we soon became 
better acquainted. Mr. Schilling, his wife, one son nearly 
grown, and a girl ten or eleven years old, gathered around the 
table which was extended for our benefit, and even then an 
additional smaller table was brought to accommodate all of us. 
We had a hearty breakfast. Strangers came rarely and when 
we had gained their confidence, they would not accept our 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


4t; 


money and insisted on our staying several days for a good 
rest. We gladly accepted their hospitality. Mr. Shilling ex- 
plained to us that he kept a warehouse and a store containing 
a supply of barley, rice, canned goods, dried fish and a few 
other groceries, together with a small stock of dry goods, for 
which the people there, excepting his own family, had but 
little use. “ Some five years ago,” he told us, “ they robbed 
me and I feared they would kill us. They spared our lives 
but took about all I had. Then they tried it a second time, 
but I was partly prepared for them and with the assistance of 
some natives, ran them off. Since then I have been unmo- 
lested until you fellows came.” We all laughed at this as we 
remembered his great fear when he first saw us. He told us 
many stories of hunting and fishing, and thus our stay was 
most pleasant. Ocean steamers landed here once a week reg- 
ularly, also freight steamers and sailing ships, landing their 
freight and people from the interior came for it, sometimes 
coming long distances. Mr. Shilling, and especially his wife, 
hoped to go back to their native home as soon as they should 
have accumulated a little fortune. He seemed to make money 
and I have often hoped and still hope that they succeeded and 
returned to the country and the home they loved best. They 
were good people. 

On the fourth day we were suddenly interrupted in our fish- 
ing on the wharf by the long, low whistle of a steamer. When 
she rounded the point and came in sight she showed the stars 
and stripes, and came to anchor about a half mile from the 
shore. It was a tramp steamer and had some freight to land. 
While the freight was being landed the captain had a long 
private talk with Mr. Shilling. He stayed on shore, took din- 
ner at the house, and after dinner spoke to Herman. I could 
not hear what he said but could see that Herman was deeply 
interested. Directly Herman motioned to me, then called 
Kobert and said: “We can’t separate, captain, if we go at all 
we must go together.” “Well, replied the captain. I’ll take 
you three.” “Boys,” said Herman, “ the captain wants twa 
steerage boys, but will take us three. Let’s go.” “ Where 
are you bound, captain?” I asked. “To Valparaiso. ”“ What 
wages do you pay?” “Twenty dollars a month.” “Where 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


47 


do you go from Valparaiso?” “To San Francisco.” We 
agreed to go. There was but little time for preparation and 
as Ave had but little to prepare (indeed Ave Avere prepared for 
anything as anything seemed Ijetter than the life we had led 
since leaving Panama) Ave gathered our little croAvd together. 
It Avas really pathetic. Hoav strangely people Avill meet and 
in a month, aye, sometimes in a day, become life-long friends. 
During the four and a half Aveeks Ave had sojourned together, 
strong ties had been formed and must they noAv be broken 
forever? Big Frenchy said, in the very best English of which 
he Avas capable: “ Boys, Ave must meet again. We all desire 
to go to California. Let’s go there. I knoAV a good boarding 
house there kept by Mr. Hendricks, on Pacific street, close to 
Pacific Avharf. Let that be the place of meeting.” We sol- 
emnly pledged that, if possible, Ave Avould meet in San Fran- 
cisco on the next Christmas day. 

After bidding good-bye to Mr. Shilling and his kind family, 
Ave Avent to the Avharf. Another Avarm hand-shaking Avith 
Big Frenchy and Little Frenchy, Anton and SAvede. We got 
into the boat Avith the captain and Avere quickly rowed to the 
steamer Concord. 



48 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE TRAMP STEAMER CONCORD. 

“ Man is a vagabond both poor and proud ; 

He treads on beasts, who give him clothes and food; 

But the gods catch him where-so-e’er he lurks, 

Whip him and set him to all painful works. 

And yet he brags he shall be crowned when dead ! ” 

— Crowns. 

A ship is like a man. It has its individuality, its habits, 
its disposition and its reputation. It also has its pedigree, 
its family connections, its moral, social and commercial 
standing. A ship may belong to the king, the nobility, the 
wealthy millionaire, the merchant, the trader or the poor 
fisherman. As the owner, so is the ship. Almost any ship 
can be bought and used as a man-of-war, or to carry passen- 
gers, money and other valuables, such as mail, express or 
freight. Also, when paid enough, some can be used as 
pirates, slavers, smugglers and filibusters. Ships can be 
known as soon as you know their line, owner and business. 
However, there is one class of ships difficult to define (like 
a similar class of men) whom we call tramps. A tramp 
ship, especially a tramp steamer, has no owner, no line of 
regular trips, no particular business; that is, so far as the 
general public knows and, I may add, cares. The tramp 
steamer is a kind of “forlorn critter.” She comes and goes, 
and no one knows whither. She has no connections, no 
schedule and no rates. At times she may be well dressed, 
seem to have plenty of money, and be proud and put on airs. 
Again you see her slouchy, soiled, and poor and needy. Such 
was the Concord, on board of which we found ourselves 
shipped as steerage boys. The Concord was a tramp steamer, 
poor but proud. She had a fine record. She was built for 
some great trans-Atlantic company, and so was really born 
and christened into a noble family. She had made her trial 
trip with great pomp. Several distinguished connoisseurs, 
among whom was an admiral, several British naval officers, a 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


49 


lord and some prominent shipping merchants. These men 
had paced her decks, and with her colors gayly flaunting in 
the breeze she returned from her maiden trip with the prom- 
ise of a happy and a useful career. But, alas! when it came 
down to real business she was found wanting, and was sold to 
somebody somewhere, and was sent .out as a tramp steamer; 
and all that was left of her glory was her record. To say 
that she was getting old would be unkind, for any ship at her 
time of life would be sensitive — as sensitive as most girls 
between twenty-five and thirty. So we will say (the best I 
•can do) that she was still in the prime of life. 

She had lived much and passed through all kinds of 
experiences. She had known how to abound and how to be 
in want. Fortunately for us, she was just now abounding. 
There had been brisk trade and heavy shipping all along the 
Pacific coast, especially from San Francisco, and after the 
regular line steamers had their full share, there was just now 
^n abundant surplus for the tramp steamer Concord. We 
had a heavy general cargo, but the main part of the abund- 
ant surplus consisted of a hundred and sixty Chinamen as 
steerage passengers. It was our duty as steerage boys to give 
these Chinamen their three meals each day, and keep the 
steerage reasonably clean. There were four long tables, 
forty men to each table. Breakfast was served at 8 A. M. 
Forty tin cups, forty tin plates, forty tin spoons were put on 
each table; then just two tablespoonfuls of rice into each 
plate, a hard-tack and the cup half full of black coffee with- 
out sugar. Full half an hour before breakfast the hungry 
Chinamen crowded around the door, and when eight bells 
struck and the door was opened, in tumbled the Chinamen. 
We had tried our best to assign to each of them his place and 
maintain some sort of order, but, despite all our efforts, 
most of the time some fellow would grab two plates or his 
neighbor’s hard-tack, and in the scuflle perhaps a third party 
snatch it all. Then there would be a row, and of all the 
rows I ever heard, a real Chinese row beats them all. These 
Chinamen never came to blows (they had no arms of any 
kind, as the officer of the deck had attended to that), but 
they would jabber and screech and gesture with heads, hands 


50 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


and feet, and make the most hideous grimaces till breakfast 
was all gone. Then they slowly scattered about the deck 
and lay down, like pigs in the mud. If not asleep, they 
seemed to keep their eyes shut to save the trouble of having 
to look at anything. Thus seemingly lifeless, with scarcely 
enough energy to breathe, they were apparently perfectly 
content and even happy as long as they were let alone. 

“There are a number of us creep 
Into the world to eat and sleep, 

And know no reason why they’re born 
Hut merely to consume the corn (rice), 

Devour the cattle, fowl and fish, 

And leave behind an empty dish. 

Tho’ crows and ravens do the same, 

Unlucky birds of hateful name; 

Ravens and crows might fill their places 
And swallow corn and eat carcasses. 

Then if their tombstones, when they die. 

Be n’t taught to flatter and to lie. 

There’s nothing better will be said 
Than that they’ve eat up all their bread. 

Drunk all their drink and gone to bed.” 

(Franklin’s Paraphrase of Horace.) 

About half an hour before dinner time they revived, slowly 
but surely, and by ten minutes before twelve the doors were 
again crowded. We were forced to keep the doors locked 
for an hour before each meal, or we could not have kept 
kept them out. The only difference between breakfast and 
dinner was a cup half full of soup instead of coffee. At 
supper they were treated to a half cup of tea. Otherwise 
each meal consisted of the usual two tablespoons of rice and 
the hard-tack. Poor creatures! They were hardly men, 
born and reared in extremest poverty and hard life. They 
had no individuality and, perhaps, not a single thought of 
their own. They did only what they were forced to do and 
did it mechanically, with no ambition, no interest and no 
hope. 

Thousands of these poor creatures were carried, perhaps 
against their own will, to Central and South America to 
work in mines and on plantations, perhaps never to return. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


51 


The second mate of our steamer had once been an overseer 
in Callao, where several thousand Chinamen worked in 
guano. They worked in gangs of twenty, and each gang had 
its boss, either a white man or a negro. I remember our 
mate told us many stories of the transportation and work of 
these Chinamen, and one picture is still vivid in my mind. 
He related it substantially as follows: “One morning we 
marched the gangs out on a plateau edged on one side by a 
precipice a hundred and twenty feet high, at the base of 
which lay the Pacific ocean. It was a magnificent view. My 
gang had just begun work when I noticed a sort of tumult in 
another gang not far from me. I raised my rifle to keep my 
crowd from any participation in the confusion. They cow- 
ered down before me and worked on. It seemed that the 
boss of this mutinous gang had whipped some of them (it 
was often done), and when I looked around at them again I 
saw them string out in a line, hand in hand. They broke 
away from their boss, and ran toward the precipice. On 
they ran and, with a wild yell of despair, hurled themselves 
to the depths below, thus ending their miserable existence.’^ 

Those one hundred and sixty Chinese we had on board 
were going to Chili most likely to work in the copper mines. 

The second mate, a man between fifty and sixty years of 
age, became our friend. Mr. Mack, as he was called, had a 
.rather bad reputation. It was whispered around that he had 
once been a pirate, and also had been for years the captain 
of a slave trader, and the crew stood in dread of him. He 
was a fine seaman, a stern, exacting oflScer; and he suited the 
captain, whom we saw but rarely and about whom many stories 
were told similar to those told about Mr. Mack. Yet Mr. 
Mack had a tender heart if you could get at it, and it seemed 
that we boys had touched his heart, and he bestowed upon us 
all the kindness and interest of which he was capable; and 
many stories he told us of thrilling exploits on sea and land. 

We reached Valparaiso after a pleasant voyage; that is, as 
pleasant as it could be with those Chinamen on board. 
Valparaiso, though a beautiful natural harbor, is very deep. 
When we let go our anckor, fully seventy fathoms of chain 
were poured into the water before she stuck. It was evening 


52 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


when we came to. We hoped to land our Chinamen before 
night but were disappointed, and so had to keep them until 
the next day. The next morning, about ten o’clock, a large 
flat boat came oft and hauled alongside. The Chinamen got 
up, gathered their baggage together, all of which one man 
could have easily carried, and mechanically walked over the 
gangway, down into the flat boat, with the same blank faces, 
the same staring look, without gladness and without hope. 
God pity these poor wretches ! 

The steerage passengers being gone, we were transferred 
to the deck crew, and now had advanced to deck boys. 
While the cargo was being discharged, the assistant steward, 
together Avith us three boys, were put in the dingy, a small 
boat that runs the errands betAveen the ship and the land. 
The chief steAA^ard had given each of us a ncAV suit of clothes; 
for, though the Concord was a tramp steamer and her men 
might be in rags, yet her boat creAv must keep up her record. 
So, in our new man-of-Avar suits, white hats Avith “ Concord” 
in gilt letters across the front, we had put on all the style 
which the captain had furnished. 

We had been in port about a week, our cargo Avas all unloaded 
and the great hull of the Concord lay empty upon the water. 
After pulling nearly all day, we returned one evening to our 
ship very tired. There Avas now not much to do on board. 
Mr. Mack came to us AA^hile we were eating our supper. He 
seemed unusually bright and said: “Boys, we are going 
home — home to old England. It’s tAventy years since I Avas 
in Liverpool, and we are going straight there. The captain 
chartered her to-day.” Herman said: “Why, Mr. Mack, has 
the Concord been aAvay tAventy years?” “No,” he replied, 
“I only shipped in her about a year ago.” Mr. Mack, in his 
happy mood, talked on for some time, and we learned that 
the Concord would leave in two or three days, run down to 
Coquimbo, take in copper ore and sail for Liverpool. This 
was no small disappointment. Was it not our plan to go to 
San Francisco? Had we not solemnly promised to meet our 
Panama crowd and have a regular reunion? What could be 
done? We discussed the question nearly all night, Avhen 
Herman at last reached the conclusion. “Boys,” he said. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


53 


“there are ships in Valparaiso bound for California. Let’s 
run away and try for another ship.” 

The captain had paid us five dollars each as we came on 
board. We had not been quite a month onboard; besides 
we had some money which we had brought from Panama. 
We found that we had about thirty-five dollars all together, 
and so, after discussing the details, we decided to jump her 
at the first good chance we had while landing in our boat. 
The next morning (Sunday) we rowed the captain ashore, 
and as he left us he said: “Go to the market and get some 
fresh meat and vegetables. They don’t deliver any on 
Sundays, and so you can go by and get it in time to have some 
meat for breakfast.” We pulled up to the market landing. 
Flunky (assistant steward) walked up the stone steps, up the 
street, then turned to the right into the market. Ko sooner 
was he out of sight than Robert and I followed Herman up 
the stone steps, up the street, turned the first left-hand 
corner, then to the right again, up the hill, on, on, till we had 
gone clear to the other end of the city. There we stopped to 
make further plans. We found a cheap-looking boarding- 
house, and went in and asked for some breakfast. An old, 
dark-skinned Chilian woman met us and motioned us to 
come in. We entered a small, neat apartment which seemed 
to serve as parlor, sitting-room and dining-hall, and, when 
necessary, also as an extra bedroom. There were two other 
men in the room, and so we could not talk about plans. 
Herman motioned to us to hide our hats. We put them in a 
corner close to him, and unobserved he took them one by 
one, tore oft the ribbons on which Concord was painted in 
large gilt letters, and put them in his pocket. A good breakfast 
was spread before us. Now the two men left; the landlady 
came in and sat down, and we talked to her about ships, told 
her we were sailors and had left(?) our ship. To our great 
delight we found that we had learned lots of English, for we 
could really talk better than she. The good woman asked us 
no questions, rented us a room large enough for three, and 
boarded us for four dollars per week each. We paid five 
dollars down in advance, went to our room and were free 


once more. 


54 


THE STOEY OF THE SEAS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

STOWING AWAY. 

For nearly a week we remained mostly in our room, ven- 
turing out a little after dark, and then not daring to go far. 
The next Sunday, a week after we left the Concord, we went 
down town to see the ships and find out, if possible, if any 
were bound for San Francisco. We walked along the land- 
ings and wharf all the forenoon, looking at the great mass 
of ships that lay moored in the harbor. It was a beautiful 
sight. Perhaps there were between four and five hundred 
ships anchored, all in straight lines entirely across the har- 
bor, line after line, as far as we could see, all heading toward 
the city. 

“There’s a fight, boys; come on, let’s see it;” saying 
that, Robert ran towards a crowd of eight or ten men some 
distance up the street. Herman and I followed. We could 
now hear them shouting and loudly talking to, or rather at 
each other. They were not fighting, however; only more or 
less drunk; a crowd of sailors on a spree, who had been out 
all night and were returning to their ship. Before Herman 
and I reached the men, Robert was talking to two of them, 
and together they came toward us. The two men were Ger- 
mans. We found that Carl, the older of the two, was from 
Hamburg, and Chris, the younger, was a Prussian. Chris was 
nearly drunk and Carl nearly sober. “Boys,” said Chris, 
“come and have a drink. We are having a high old time, 
the first time we have touched land for four months.” Then 
he turned to his shipmates again. We had all come together 
by this time. Some of them were singing, some of them 
dancing, when suddenly a policeman rushed around the 
corner and silence reigned. The copper collared two of the 
noisiest of the men, talked some Spanish at them and seemed 
very threatening, when Carl turned to him, gave him a piece 
of money, and all was safe. The policeman disappeared. 
We wanted to talk to Carl, but he was so busy taking care of 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


55 


his shipmates that we reached the wharf before he could 
speak to us. “I am mighty glad to see you fellows,” he said, 
when the crowd was safe on the wharf. “It was all I could 
do to keep some of these fellows from beiug arrested, but 
we did have a lot of fun. I wish we had met you boys last 
night. What are you doing here?” “We jumped a steamer,” 
put in Robert, who held the first claim on the first real coun- 
tryman we had met. “We are just bumming around trying to 
get a ship. What ship do you belong to?” asked Herman. 
“The Black Eagle, a Liverpool ship,” replied Carl. “Where 
are you bound?” “To San Francisco.” “San Francisco!” 
we all exclaimed at once. “Yes.” “Carl, you are a Ham- 
burger; help us, if possible,” said Herman. “We want to 
go to San Francisco, and we will do anything to get there.” 
“We need no men, as we have a full crew, but I’ll see the 
<5aptain; maybe he’ll let you work your passage. Have you 
got any clothes? I mean sea clothes — boots, oilcloths, 
blankets — you know what I mean.” “No,” answered Her- 
man, “but maybe we can get some somewhere.” “Have you 
any money?” “Yes, we have between fifteen and twenty 
dollars.” “Good! Here comes our mate, boys. That’s our 
boat. You get away from here; don’t let him see you. 
Come down here to this wharf at ten o’clock in the morning. 
Go on, now, quick.” Thus we left him. An unexpected 
light had burst upon us, and full of hope we returned to our 
boarding-house. We slept but little that night and were up 
-early the next morning. The clock from a church steeple 
struck eight as we walked down the wharf, sat down on the 
steps and waited. Boats came and went, all sorts of boats, 
but our attention was especially attracted to the numerous 
police boats which were flying between the rows of ships. 
One of these police boats came toward our wharf. There 
were four policemen ; one in the bow, two rowed the boat, and 
the other sat in the stern with two prisoners. Evidently the 
two prisoners were miscreant sailors on their way to the lockup. 
A cold chill ran over me as they passed, and Herman and 
Robert looked as I felt. A few minutes after half-past nine 
the Black Eagle’s boat came toward the wharf. We got up 
nnd walked to the head of the wharf, where we remained 


56 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


until the two men who had come ashore in the boat walked 
by; then we walked slowly down again, watching for Carl or 
any sign he might give us. We saw Carl come out of the 
boat and up the steps. He motioned for us to stop, turned 
round and spoke to the men in the boat, and came rapidly up 
the wharf. “Come here, boys, sit down behind this old 
boiler. I have but few minutes to talk to you. I came very 
near not coming, as I don’t belong to the boat crew, but I 
managed it and got here. Well, I don’t see what can be 
done. The captain don’t want anybody, and this is all I can 
do for you.” With that he handed Herman ten dollars. 
“It’s all I’ve got, boys,” he said, “and I had to borrow that,, 
as I spent what little money I had drawn on Saturday. 
“Carl, we just must go with you,” said Herman. “Is there 
no way in which the captain might take us? Suppose we see 
him and talk to him. Certainly he would let us work our 
passage.” “No use,” was Carl’s reply. After some momenta 
of silence he resumed, “Look here. I’ll risk it. I don’t know 
whether I can make it or not, but if you can evade the watch- 
man or, if you can’t evade him, bribe him (give him that ten 
dollar gold piece and he’ll hush), you come here to-night on 
this wharf and watch, and leave the rest to me. Keep a close 
lookout between eleven and twelve o’clock. To-night is our 
only chance, as we sail to-morrow evening if the wind is fair. 

If I fail,” he continued, getting up, “don’t think hard of 
me. Don’t say a word to anybody. Now, I’ve got to go. 

Be sure and be here to-night.” With that he left us. We 
watched him as he got into the boat. The other three men 
were eating some fruit which they had bought from one of the 
numerous peddlers about the wharf. Carl took some. They 
sat and talked as they finished their fruit, then slowly got up, : 
untied the boat, pushed off and rowed away. We stood and j 
Avatched them till they Avere lost among the ships. I 

“What’s he going to do Avith us?” asked Eobert. “Hush!” j 
said Herman, “don’t gab. Carl knoAvs Avhat he’s about, j 
Come, let’s go home.” We Avalked leisurely back to our 
boarding-house, and got there just in time for dinner. In 
the afternoon Ave Avent doAvn toAvn, bought each of us a pair 
of shoes (Ave sadly needed them), a pair of pants, not costly 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


57 


but substantial, an oil cloth coat and some few other articles, 
spending in all eleven dollars. After supper, as soon as our 
landlady was at leisure, we asked to see her. 

“How much do we owe you?’’ asked Herman. The good 
wmman replied, after some hesitation: “You pay me enough 
already. Me want not your money. Me have a boy as big as 
you. He go to sea — two long years gone.” Here sobs choked 
her, but after a short pause she resumed: “My boy pretty 
boy, pretty black hair, pretty white teeth; he good boy, bye 
and bye you meet him on a ship then you tell him mother say. 
come back, the old mother say: ‘My boy come back.’” 
Again her heart as well as her eyes overflowed. She would 
not take our money — except the five dollars we paid her the 
day we went to her house. More than that, she had washed 
and mended our few old clothes so that we did not know 
them as we found them on our beds that evening. We had 
been obliged to get some new clothes after taking off our 
boat suits, and had thrown all the soiled clothing behind the 
head of the bed, where she had found them and now reiurned 
them to us all cleaned and mended. ^ Dear old soul ! how my 
thoughts were turned to my own dear mother. Did she, too, 
long for her boy? Would she, like this dark-skinned mother, 
sit for hours, when not busy with her household cares, and 
think and weep, and hope for her boy’s safe return? My 
heart smote me and I resolved that some day, perhaps soon, 
I would return. “ Adios, my boys,” she said as we left her 
at the door, “adios, bye and bye you see my boy you be good 
to him as me be good to you. God bless you, and you be 
good to your mother.” This set us all to thinking. “ I wish 
I had written to my mother oftener,” I said; “I have no 
father or mother either,” said Herman, sadly. “They died 
when I was small, but I remember them well. My uncle 
reared me and my boyhood was not always happy.” Robert, 
too, had to tell his story. “I never knew my father,” he 
said, “but my mother was always good — so much better than 
I deserved. I have three brothers older than I and two sis- 
ters, one older and one younger than I. B(^ys,” he continued 
after a thoughtful pause, “I hav’nt written a line home since 
I left. I’m going to write a long, good letter to mother wdieii 


58 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


we get to San Francisco.” Let me say right here, for fear I 
forget it later, that Robert kept his promise and wrote that 
long, good letter to his mother. The clock struck eight. We 
walked slowly on and about ten minutes later walked down 
the wharf. At nine o’clock the great gates at the head of the 
wharf and landings are locked. A watchman stays at the 
gate and only those who have a pass can go through. All 
traffic in the harbor ceases; still the police boats row to and 
fro all night. The clock struck nine. We sat at the end of 
.the wharf. We could hear the steps of the watchman as he 
came down toward us. “Come here,” said Herman, “lie 
fiat down on this lowest step, close to the water, and don’t 
move.” We did so. Fortunately the watchman had no lan- 
tern. He came to the end of the wharf but not down the 
steps, and so did not see us. He went back; we heard the 
great gate swing on its hinges, the lock turned, and we crawled 
up the steps again and sat down on the top step where we 
could look out over the water as well as up the wharf. “ I 
say,” whispered Robert, “ suppose Carl don’t come, what are 
we going to do then?” Hush,” said Herman, “ don’t talk 
about that. Time enough for that to-morrow.” Slowly the 
time wore away. The clock struck ten. I thought I could 
see a boat coming toward our wharf. I called Herman’s 
attention to it. “That’s he,” I said, “there are two men in 
it.” “No,” replied Herman, “don’t you know a police boat 
would get them if they came with as much noise as that?” 
One of the men in the boat lit a lantern. “Donnerwetter ! ” 
exclaimed Robert in a piercing whisper, “it’s a police boat.” 
Now they rowed rapidly ahead and came toward our steps. 
“Let’s hide behind that old boiler up the wharf, boys.” 
Good. We made our way to the boiler as quickly as we 
eould. Now the boat landed. “Boys,” said Herman, “let’s 
stay right at the head of this boiler; if the fellow comes up 
on the left, we glide round on the right; if he comes up on 
the right, we go round on the lett. Get right flat down and 
erawl on your hands and knees when you move. Great 
Scott!” he continued, from the end of the boiler where he 
stood watch, “they are both coming. They’ve got a lantern; 
they are coming close to us, and— oh, horror! — one is coming 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


59 


on each side.” Robert pulled my ear, and when I turned my 
head I saw him crawl into a hole at the end of the boiler. I 
followed and Herman behind me. All this was the woik of 
a moment but it worked. We heard the men talking as they 
walked by us. We kept still until we heard the gate open 
and shut again, then we crawled out almost suffocated and 
covered with iron rust; but that made no difference so long 
as we were safe. The steeple clock struck eleven. All was 
silent; not even a vehicle could be heard in the city, and only 
the measured tread of a policeman or watchman broke the 
stillness of the night. Half-past eleven. We were huddled 
close together on the left side of the boiler and even subdued 
our breathing. Suddenly Robert started. I looked in the 
direction he pointed and saw — it seemed to be a huge dog; it 
crouched along towards us; now it stopped, as if ready to 
spring upon us; it raised its head and, “Hello! are you 
there?” came in a whisper, and it was Carl who thus addressed 
us. “Yes,” answered Robert, as we gathered around him. 
^‘Be quiet,” said Carl, “come and follow me. Don’t get up, 
you might be seen; crawl after me.” So saying, he crawled 
up the wharf a piece, then stopped to see if we were there, 
^‘^ow come one at a time; be very careful; take it slow.” 
He led us to the edge of the wharf, slid down a rope by which 
a lighter (flat boat) was tied to the wharf and to which his 
boat was fastened, and one by one we followed till we all 
safely landed in the boat. “Now,” continued Carl, “lie flat 
down in the boat and let me manage her.” Slowly we moved 
away from the wharf. Carl sculled on without noise. Fully 
fifteen minutes of careful sculling and great suspense elapsed 
before we reached the head of the Black Eagle. Carl tied 
the boat to the cable and told us to wait. He climbed up on 
the forecastle head, was gone some minutes, then his head 
reappeared over the bow and he whispered: “Come up, boys; 
come quick, but be quiet.” As soon as we reached the deck 
he motioned us to follow and quickly led the way down on 
the main deck, into the fore hold, groping through the sail 
loft, down into the main hold, down, down, down until we 
reached the bottom of the ship. Here in a cavity made by 
the keel, which ran the full length of the ship, we halted. 


60 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


“Sit down now,” said Carl, “and rest awhile.” After drink- 
ing some water which Carl had provided together with some 
other necessaries of life, he said further, “Now, boys, I’ve 
run no small risk for you, but that’s all right; it’s too late 
now to turn back.” “We don’t want to turn back,” put in 
Robert. “Wait,” said Carl, “and think about it. You will 
have to stay here in the dark for four or five days, until we 
are well out at sea. Then you come up on deck. The cap- 
tain is not going to put back for your sakes and he can’t 
throw you overboard, so you are bound to go with us. Now, 
you may have a pretty hard time of it, but I hope we’ll make 
the passage in two months, and that will soon pass away, and 
then you’ll be in San Francisco. I want to ask one thing 
more, boys,” he continued earnestly, “whatever you do, don’t 
give me away. Make up some story as to how you got 
aboard or just refuse to tell, and don’t get me into trouble.” 
We promised that we would not implicate him, come what 
might. “I’ll try to get down here,” said Carl again, “and at 
least keep you supplied with water and such things to eat as I 
can get. Now, I have to go on deck. It is my night watch till 
two o’clock. There is not a soul besides me who knows any- 
thing about you being here. We’ll surprise them when we 
are at sea. Now, boys, take care of yourselves. I hope 
everything will turn out all right.” With that he left us. It 
was so dark there. The air was considerably mixed with the 
odors coming from the freight. Our hole was plenty long 
enough, but only four feet wide and scarcely as high; but the 
weather was cool and we were otherwise comfortable and 
felt really happy. Were we not bound for San Francisco? 

That night I had a strange dream.' I dreamed that I was 
with my father on his ship. We were sailing down the river, 
outward bound, with a stiff breeze and outflowing tide. 
Rounding a curve in the river we had to tack. “Bout ship ! ” 
called out my father (he was captain). “All ready!” 
answered the mate. “Hard a lee!” my father called to the 
man at the helm. The wheel went down and the vessel hove 
into the wind for a moment. The heavy sails fluttered vio- 
lently and the spars trembled. Then everything lay aback. 
“Let go your bowline!” rang out the words loud and clear. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


61 


and the foreyards went ripping round and filled. “Main 
topsail haul!” father called out. I stood by his side as the 
main yards were being hauled around, when the overhauled 
sheet, flung across the deck by the flapping of the mainsail, 
struck me on the head, caught father around the waist and 
burled him overboard into the water. He sunk. I wanted 
to jump after him, but somebody seemed to hold me with an 
iron grip. My father rose. His head was clear above the 
water and he swam with all his might. Again he sank. I 
struggled to get loose, but in vain. I saw him come up again. 
He raised his hand out of the water above his head. He 
looked at me with that strange, sad expression I saw on his 
face the morning I left home on the Borussia. His lips 
moved, and I thought I could hear the words: “Son, do your 
duty,” and then, oh, God! he sank, and the pitiless waves 
rolled over him. I awoke. My face was wet with tears. I 
crawled some little distance from where Herman and Robert 
lay asleep, and gave vent to my feelings and cried like a child. 
After an hour or more I fell into a troubled sleep and dreamed 
the same dream. The agony of that night I shall never for- 
get. My father — the ideal of my life, to whom I hoped to 
return, with whom I hoped to sail under his own command, 
and eventually take charge of his ship when he wished to 
retire, the hope of my life — my father, oh, my father! could 
he be dead! 


CHAPTER IX. 

CAPTAIN BRICK-BAT. 

There was no small commotion when, on the fifth day, at 
breakfast time, we emerged from our retirement. Three men 
who had been at work in the sail loft were scared clean out 
of their wits, ran up on deck and alarmed all hands. Officers 
and men left their breakfast and came about us. Questions 
poured in upon us. “Who are you!” “Where did you come 
from!” “Get out from here,” etc., etc., when the captain’s 


62 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


voice, rising above all the rest, thundered at us: “What the 
devil do you mean?” We were staggering about as the ship 
rolled heavily, trying to find something to hold onto and keep 
ourselves from falling. Having been in the dark so long we 
could not bear the light, and had to keep our hands over our 
eyes. “Bring them aft,” said the captain, and I felt myself 
being pushed along the deck, now a push on one side then on 
the other, till they stopped us. Now the thing was becoming 
funny to most of the men. “I say,” exclaimed one of them> 
“let’s tie a rope around them and give them a wash over the 
side.” “No,” called out another, “put them under the 
pump and scrub them with a broom.” “I’ll fix them,” put 
in a gruff voice, “ I’ll take a rope’s end and tan their hides. 

I ventured to open my eyes, shading them with my hands and 
could see the man who made the last remark. He looked as 
if he meant what he said. Gradually we could bear the light 
and could see as well as be seen. What a sight we presented I 
No wonder the men in the sail loft were frightened. Still 
considerably spotted with iron rust and covered with dirt from 
the dusty bottom of the ship, for though we had had water to 
drink, there had been none to spare for a bath; with great 
splotches of black on our faces, we were truly comical. When 
we saw each other we had to smile, and the men laughed 
loudly. Again the captain’s voice burst upon us: “I say, 
what do you mean? Come here and talk to me. How did 
you get here?” “Please, sir,” pleaded Herman, and then 
for the first time I caught sight of Carl, who stood in a group 
of men and laughed and talked as indifferently and uncon- 
cerned as the rest of them, “please, sir, we were left in Val- 
paraiso and wanted to go to San Francisco. Please, captain^ 
don’t be too hard on us; we’ll work at anything you say and 
do the best we can.” “Yes,” he said, angrily, “I’ll be hanged 
if you don’t pay your passage before you see San Francisco.” 
Then addressing the men, he continued: “Take these chaps 
forward; don’t take them in the forecastle unless you want 
to; make them sleep out on deck and work the life out of 
’em. Take ’em out of my sight.” The excitement was over^ 
and as we sat down on a spar in the forward part of the 
ship — the starboard watch remaining on deck and the port 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


63 


watch going below — I saw a man come from the galley 
(kitchen) with a pan of hash and a steaming coffee pot. Oh I 
how I wanted some of that hash and a cup of coffee. We 
could see them eating and drinking from where we sat. Carl 
had been to see us but once; on the third night he had brought 
us some meat and hard-tack and a small tin pot of cold cof- 
fee. We were hungry — oh! so hungry. One or two of the 
men on deck seemed to show some sympathy, but the rest 
went on as indifferently and as unconcerned as if we were 
not there. Carl dared not say anything. At last a man 
poked his head out of the forecastle and called to us: “come 
in here.” Oh! joy, we would get some breakfast. We 
needed no second invitation, but alas and alas! the hash pan 
and the coffee pot were both empty, even the tin plates and 
cups had nothing left in them and the sailor who had called 
us, merely told us to “clean up,” and laid down in his bunk 
as the rest of the watch had done. We got no breakfast. It 
was pretty evident to us that we had made a bad beginning. 
After cleaning up, although it was Sunday, the second mate 
sent us down into the sail loft to clear a coil of new rope. 
It was two-inch hemp rope, and to get it straight was to the 
uninitiated an almost impossible task, and so it proved to us. 
The more we worked and turned and twisted, the worse the 
thing got. Dinner time came and we were not half through. 
The second mate came and looked at us in utter disgust, 
cursed us and told the men not to give us a bite of dinner till 
that coil of rope was clear. Robert sat down and cried; I 
kept on turning and twisting the rope while great tears rolled 
down my face; Herman was mad. Just then Carl put his 
head down the ladder and said: “Come on, anyhow. I’ll see 
that you get your dinner.” We entered the forecastle a little 
behind Carl. The men were sitting around the table on 
which sat a large pan of pea soup, and another pan contain- 
ing a chunk of boiled pickled pork. Hard-tack lay about 
on the table promiscuously. “I say, boys,” said Carl to his 
messmates, “give these fellows something to eat. I suspect 
they are half starved.” So saying, he helped several plates, 
passed the pan and asked “anybody want any more?” Then 
he handed us the pan as there were no more plates, threw us 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


G4 


some spoons and told us to “go it.” Chris, though he did 
not recognize us, cut oft a piece of pork and gave it to us 
with some hard-tack. We sat down on the floor and “fared 
sumptuously.” Oh! how we filled up. What a blessing is a 
good appetite, and what a splendid appetite we had. We 
cleaned up again after dinner; some of the men asked our 
names and began to talk more freely, when the second male 
came to the door and called out “is that coil of rope clear?” 
Carl answered for us and said that they had called us to clean 
up and that we could now go back. This answer served as an 
explanation. We at once went back to the sail loft and re- 
sumed our task. Our dinner had helped us; we felt better 
and went to work with a good will, but alas! the coil would 
not get clear. If we could have stretched the rope along the 
deck we might have cleared it, but here in a small loft about 
ten by sixteen feet, the job seemed impossible. We worked 
hard, but in vain. At six o’clock the mate came. He seemed 
less irritable than the second mate and said, “bring it up on 
deck;” then called two men, pushed us aside, and in a few 
minutes the coil was clear. 

At eight bells we were all three put in the port (the first 
mate’s) watch. Three or four days passed and we had a 
pretty hard time of it, especially when the second mate was 
on deck. By the end of the week we were left more or less 
alone. Some of the men became friendly, and even the cap- 
tain, whom the men called “Captain Brickbat,” and the 
dreaded second mate, whom the sailors for some cause had 
nicknamed “Pot,” treated us as they did the rest of the men. 
The mate, Mr. Burns, w^as a man who would see fair play, and 
already had saved us from several unfair tasks which the 
second mate and some of the men would have imposed upon 
us. On the next Saturday evening the captain called us aft. 
We had come on board Monday night, left Valparaiso Wednes- 
day morning, made our first appearance on Sunday morning, 
had one week of hardships, and were now sent for by the 
captain. He spoke to us if not kindly, at least not harshly, 
and said substantially: “You can sign the articles now, if you 
want to, and I’ll put you on wages. I’ll pay you ten dollars 
per month. I want to do what is right.” >Ve appreciated 


THE STORY OF TH^l SEAS. 


65 


this, for to sign the articles would j^lace us among the crew 
nnd give us equal rights. So after the mate had read them to 
us, we signed them, and the captain entered our names in the 
log (ship’s record). Herman was put in the port watch as 
deckboy, Eobert in the starboard watch, same office, and I 
was turned over to the steward, who duly installed me as 
€abin boy. I envied my partners just a little for getting 
thus ahead of me, but as complaint would have been useless 
I accepted the situation. The Black Eagle was an English 
■ship and hailed from Liverpool. Her crew consisted of the 
captain, first and second mates, steward, cook and twenty-four 
seamen. On a sail ship the steward is called “flunky,” the 
<cook, “doctor,” and the carpenter, “chips.” The carpenter 
is boss in the forecastle and is numbered among the seamen. 
We were running down the trade wind, the weather was beau- 
tiful and things went on smoothly. Captain Brickbat at 
times seemed really interested in me. He made me a suit of 
canvas clothes, pants and jumper, with his own hands. He 
•called me Bismarck, and gave me a very practical course of 
instruction in language. His method was about like this: “Bis- 
marck!” “Yes, sir.” “What is this?” (No answer.) “This 
is a chair. Now, what is it?” “A chair.” “Now, this is a 
pitcher; what is it?” “A pisher.” “No, listen — a pit-shaw — 
now, you can say it.” “A pit-shaw.” So he would continue 
till some ten or fifteen articles were named; then began the 
review. “Now, Bismarck, what was this?” “A chair, sir.” 
“That’s right; and this?” “A — a” (here he picked up a 
rope’s end and swung it over my head). “What is it? 
Quick.” “A — a pit-shaw, sir.” “Ah, that’s right. You’ve 
got a good memory.” Of course, I learned rapidly with such 
a master. 

As we approached the equator and the weather became 
warmer every day, the captain had me draw four or five 
buckets of water, which he used as a shower bath early each 
morning. One Sunday morning he called me (I slept in a 
small room next to his stateroom). It was not yet daylight. 
“Bismarck, come, get up and draw me some water; I want to 
cool off.” “Yes, sir,” and up I jumped. He had been espe- 
cially kind to me on Saturday, and had me play the accordeon 


66 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


belonging to the steward all through the dog watch. I ran 
down on the main deck, but the deck buckets were not there. 
One of the men told me that they were by the foremast, as- 
they had not finished the sand and canvasing on Saturday, 
and wanted to complete the work Monday morning. I brought 
four buckets. It was cloudy and, hence, darker than usual. 
I put the buckets in a row, plunged the admiral (a canvas 
bucket to draw water) overboard, drew it up again and poured 
the contents into the first of the deck buckets. The captain 
raised it above his head and slowly poured it over himself. 
1 had filled the second bucket. He used it the same way. 
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “boy, that’s fine.” I filled the third 
bucket. The cai:)tain poured it over his head, and he fairly 
screamed, threw the bucket at me; but it missed me and went 
overboard, and that made him furious. “Steward! Oh, 
steward!” he called loudly. “Bring me some fresh water 
quick. Be quick! Oh, my eyes, my eyes!” He cried as if in 
great pain, and jumped and ran about the quarter-deck as if 
crazy. No wonder; the last bucket he had used had been 
perhaps half full of sand and soda, and it got both into his^ 
eyes and mouth. The steward, the mate and two or three 
men came to his help, bathed his eyes in fresh water and 
washed the sand out of his hair and off his body. And I? 
Well — I caught it; and had it not been for the timely interfer- 
ence of Mr. Burns, Brickbat might have killed me. Sore and 
stiff and feverish, I laid in my bunk unable to get up for 
nearly a week. Days passed and Captain Brickbat had but 
little to say to me. His eyes were quite sore and remained 
inflamed for more than a week. Gradually h© got over it and 
things went on as usual. 

“Robert, come here,” called out the mate one morning. 
“Robert, go to the galley and ask the doctor to lend you his 
big meat knife.” “Ay, ay, sir,” replied Robert, and brought 
the big, heavy knife. “Lay up aloft there to the main royal 
yard and cut the line.” “What line, sir?” asked Robert. 
“Go on,” said the mate, “you’ll see it when you get there, I 
guess.” Robert went up the weather main shrouds, up the top 
mast rigging, shinned the top gallant backstays, till he stepped 
onto the royal yard. He looked all around, then looked down. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


67 


on deck and called out: “Where is the line, sir?” All the 
Avatch on deck had gathered by this time on the Aveather side 
of the main mast and AA^atched Robert and seemed to enjoy it 
immensely. The doctor came out of his galley to see the 
sight, and even the captain shoAved interest in the matter. 
The men kept calling to Robert to “Cut the line! Cut the 
line!” “What line?” asked Robert several times, and every- 
body on deck laughed. “Cut the line!” yelled the doctor. 
“The equator! Don’t you knoAv AA^e are crossing the equator 
this morning?” SloAvly Robert caught on to the joke, and 
amid loud hurrahs and cheers from the men, came doAAm again 
AAuth the knife. Even Captain Brickbat laughed heartily at 
this old time sailor’s joke. 

The interest Carl had shoAvn in us dreAv us close to him, and 
instead of three Ave Avere now four. Chris, as Avell as the rest 
of the men, considered us mere kids, and had but little to do 
AAuth us. But Carl used to meet Avith us, and many Avere the 
hopes and beautiful the plans AA^e made. Carl had been in 
San Francisco before, but had not stopped there. He had 
been ashore, hoAAwer, and kneAv something about the city, 
and that to us meant much. Nothing of special interest 
occurred till one evening, in the latter part of December, Ave 
sighted land. It Avas the coast of California, and the mate 
told me that the next day, perhaps, Ave Avould get into San 
Francisco. That night aa^c talked long. It Avas Herman’s 
Avatch on deck. Robert stayed up, but Carl Avas at the Avheel 
from eight to ten o’clock, and so could not be Avith us till 
relieved. We Avondered if our Panama brothers had arrived. 
The next day Avould be the nineteenth of December, and Ave 
AAwe happy in the anticipation of our reunion. We had long 
since told Carl about those boys, and about our Avanderings in 
Central America and everything else Ave kneAv. True, there 
were difficulties in our Avay. Suppose Ave are delayed yet? The 
Avind is light and Ave may not get into port for several days. 
Then, too, hoAv can Ave get aAvay from the ship? But Ave left 
these thoughts mostly for Carl. Next day the Avind greAV 
lighter still. All day Ave looked for a pilot, but no pilot boat 
came in sight. Evening gathered and again darkness Avas 
spread over the great Avaters. After dark the blue light was 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


t)8 


lighted every two hours, but no answer could be seen to our 
signal. 

At four o’clock in the morning of Thursday, December 20th, 
the mate again lighted the blue light, and a moment later a 
similar light was plainly visible almost astern of us. The 
mate called the captain, who at once ordered: “Back your 
main yards!” The great sails swung round. “All hands on 
deck!” he again called out, and as soon as the watch came on 
deck he ordered: “Clew your foresail and mainsail. Furl the 
royals and top-gallant sails!” There was a bustle about the 
deck which to an unaccustomed eye would seem all confusion. 
But there was no confusion. Everything was done in order. 
Every man knew his place and his duty, and in a few minutes 
all was in order again, and the great ship lay still. For nearly 
an hour we lay thus hove to. At five o’clock it was getting 
daylight, and we could see the pilot boat coming toward us 
under full sail. She skimmed over the long rolling waves as 
lightly as a bird. At last she caught up with us, came close 
under our lee side, launched her boat and the pilot came on 
board. “Hello, captain,” he said as he came on deck. 
“Hello, boys,” he called to the men, waving his hand toward 
them. “How are you all? Bound for ’Frisco, eh? All right. 
1 say, captain, give me something to drink; I’m all dried up.” 
The captain gave the order, “Fill your main yards!” and 
went into the cabin with the pilot. All hands were still on 
deck and the main yards swung round quickly. The great 
sails bulged out and we moved ahead. The pilot was a jolly 
man, talking all the time, sometimes to two or three men at 
once and keeping up with all of them. “Give all the canvas 
you’ve got, captain; I want to get there as bad as you. I’ve 
been out three weeks and I’m tired.” The top-gallant sails, 
royals, stay sails and jibs went up, and so under full canvas 
the breeze freshened up a little and was an additional inspira- 
tion. “Let the starboard watch go below,” said the captain. 
The mate called out the order, but the men were now inter- 
ested in the outline of the coast which we were approaching. 
It is always a pleasant excitement to sight land. The old 
sailor as well as the greenhorn, no matter how tired or how 
lazy he may be, will get up and have a peep at it, and is not 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


69 


likely to sleep any more till the ship is safely anchored in the 
harbor. We were getting closer to the land and the outlines 
of the coast rose higher above the water and became plainer. 

Now the sun rose in all its splendor, shedding a profusion 
of rich golden rays upon the scene before us. God alone can 
paint a picture like that, and the greatest masterpiece ever 
put on canvas is but a shadow beside such reality. “I see 
her,’" said the pilot, who was up in the mizzen rigging, “I see 
her plainly now; we’ll be in in three hours, or less.^’ Then 
he came down, handed the captain the spy-glass and guided 
his search along the coast line until the captain too caught 
sight of “The Golden Gate.” I wanted to look through that 
glass so bad. I hoped that the pilot or the captain would put 
it down and that I might thus borrow it for a moment. I 
watched them closely. The pilot held it in his hand for a 
while; now the mate asked for it, the pilot hands it to him 
and while the mate is scanning the coast the pilot and the 
captain walk down on the main deck. Oh! what luck, the 
mate puts the glass down on the seat by the sky-light. Now 
is my chance. I was just about to take it up, when a voice 
called close behind me, “boy, come here, I’ve been waiting 
for you for half an hour.” It was the steward. He gave me 
a punch in the ribs, which I knew meant for me to go down 
in the cabin and set the table for breakfast. I had forgotten 
myself and was some ten minutes late, but made up for lost 
time and when eight bells struck’ I was ready. The captain, 
the pilot and the mate came down and took their seats at the 
table. After passing the dishes flunky told me to get some 
more bread. I had to go to the galley on the forward part of 
the ship. As I came on deck the second mate was close to 
the wheel in the stern. I saw the precious glass still on the 
seat. I could not resist the temptation, put down my plate 
and as “Pot” was watching a small sailing craft on our quar- 
ter, I picked up the glass and took a peep. It gave me a fine 
view of the coast line; I saw, or thought I saw, the Golden 
Gate. I wanted to look longer but dared not, and so put 
down the glass and ran for the bread. 

It was about eleven o’clock when we headed straight for 
the rocks. Ships and boats of all kinds came and went. At 


70 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


last we entered through the Golden Gate, the rocks on either 
side the narrow entrance towering majestically above the 
water. We shortened sail. The wind favored us, and under 
top sails we sailed into the most beautiful harbor in the 
world. It was twelve o’clock when we came to anchor. As 
I went to the galley for the cabin dinner, Robert ran up be- 
hind me, grabbed me around the waist, threw me down on 
deck and shouted: “Hurrah! we are in San Francisco.” 


CHAPTER X. 

A CHRISTMAS REUNION AND A SAD PARTING. 

It was Christmas day, 1873. Not such a Christmas day as 
I had been been accustomed to, with all nature clad in her 
wintry attire and the people, wrapped in costly furs, driving 
along the suow-paved boulevards and streets, in beautiful 
sleighs drawn by prancing horses covered by jingling bells — 
that is, those w^ho can afford it — or perhaps gathered around 
the brightly blazing fireside of “Home, Sweet Home.” No, 
there is no Christmas like Christmas in Germany, and espe- 
cially in Hamburg. Christmas day in San Francisco is dif- 
ferent. It was not winter. Winter as I understood it never 
came here. The weather was cool, but fresh and balmy as an 
autumn day, and the trees were green. However, the ex- 
citement of the past night and the bright anticipations of the 
day kept me from being home sick. Yes, we had run away 
last night. The Black Eagle hove anchor and hauled along- 
side of the wharf at the foot of Pacific street on the morning 
of the t^venty-fourth of December. By four o’clock in the 
afternoon the ship was safely moored and the work of the 
day was done, and after washing down the decks we knocked 
off for Christmas. Flunky and I had worked hard giving the 
cabin a Christmas shine, and everything looked bright and 
clean. At five o’clock the captain came on board; he had 
been gone since the day before, and called all hands aft. 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


71 


he said, “I have failed in getting as much money as I 
wanted. I can’t draw any money till next Wednesday, but I 
have borrowed some on my own account, and the best I can 
do for you is to give you each five dollars. I can let you have 
as much as two months’ wages later on.” This was a sore 
disappointment to the men, and especially to us, who would 
need it. The captain continued: “You may all go ashore, 
except two men to keep watch. But I don’t want you to go 
till to-morrow evening, and you must be back on board by 
ten o’clock to-morrow night.” We could not wait, so that 
night we put on our best clothes and were to leave the ship 
between eleven and twelve o’clock. “Get up, get up,” and 
somebody shook me roughly. “Yes, sir,” I said, thinking 
Captain Brickbat was after me. “Hush!” said Herman, 
“are you crazy?” We had all dropped off to sleep and it 
was past three o’clock in the morning. “Come on,” said 
Carl; “be cautious. Pot is on the quarter-deck and on 
watch, and I had as soon be caught by the devil as by him.” 
We were all ready, glided over the bow, down the head line, 
onto the wharf, then waited a moment to listen and look 
about us. No one had heard us. The stars were twinkling 
in the clear sky and we could easily have been seen from the 
quarter-deck, but Pot must have been asleep. We walked 
on tiptoe among piles of freight till we got close to the head 
of the wharf, where we expected to find a policeman. We 
found him. He was slowly pacing backward and forward 
across the wharf. He sang a while, then whistled a while 
and paced on, and we waited. After waiting nearly an hour 
we at last saw him sit down upon the edge of the wharf with 
his back turned toward us and his eyes bent upon the water. 
“Now is our chance,” said Carl, “maybe the only chance 
he’ll give us. Come on and don’t make any noise. If you do 
we are lost.” We got up, arranged ourselves in single file 
and walked off the wharf along the opposite side from the 
policeman. He did not see us. Now we walked up Jackson 
-street. Though it was now nearly four o’clock in the morn- 
ing, yet it was Christmas Eve., and we met people at nearly 
every street corner. Saloons, restaurants and even some of 
the stores were still open. 


72 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


On we hastened until we had walked entirely across the 
city as far as Eighth street, about two miles from the wharf. 
We walked up and down Eighth street till nearly eight 
o’clock, then entered a small restaurant and partook of a 
hearty meal. It was good. San Francisco beats the world 
for something good to eat and as cheap as you could ask. 
We paid our bill, sixt3^-five cents for four of us, and as we 
were about to leave our attention was attracted by a sign in 
large letters, “Rooms to let.” “Are the rooms in this house 
and are they yours?” asked Herman of the man to whom he 
paid the money. “Yes, sir,” he replied, “I have only been 
living here two months. I hope to turn this buildiog into a 
hotel as soon as I am able. The rooms are nice but not fur- 
nished, and I’ll let you have two or three of them mighty 
cheap.” “We want but one and we can furnish it ourselves,’^ 
said Carl. “Let’s see the room.” The proprieter, evidently 
a new beginner, showed us six different rooms. We rented 
the cheapest, on the fourth floor, for one dollar per week, to 
be paid in advance. We at once paid the dollar and were 
left in possession by the proprietor. “This is fine,” said 
Robert. “Boys, I’m so tired I’m nearly dead.” We were all 
tired and so stretched ourselves on the bare floor. “I say,” 
said Herman, as he locked the door, “this looks sorter like 
the lockup in Panama, don’t it!” 

We were all soon fast asleep and when we awoke it was 
three o’clock in the afternoon. We waited till something 
after four, then went down into the restaurant and made one 
square meal answer for both dinner and supper. About five 
o’clock we started on our way to meet our old comrades. 
Oh! would they be there? “Mr. Hendrick’s boarding house 
on Pacific street,” repeated Herman, “our place of meeting.” 
The Black Eagle was right at the foot of Pacific street; her 
men had permission, as we knew, to come ashore this evening, 
and we ran no small risk of meeting what would now be 
unpleasant acquaintances. So we proceeded slowly. As soon 
as we entered Pacific street we divided, Herman and Robert 
taking one side and Carl and I the other, and we closely 
examined each sign and house as we went. We crossed 
Cearney street and still went on. At the corner of Mont- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


73 


gomery street we stopped. Herman motioned to us. We 
crossed the street, and by looking down Pacific street could 
plainly see the wharf. But we could not stop now, cost what 
it might. Carl was getting very uneasy and we told him to 
turn back if he wished, but he followed. Before we had 
gone another half block we could see the familiar masts of 
the Black Eagle, and yet had seen no sign of the much looked 
for boarding house. Another block passed, then at some 
distance ahead of us we saw a large sign-board with the name 
“H. Hendricks.” A crowd of sailors stood in front of the 
building. “Thai must be it,” said Herman, and we ventured 
nearer. No familiar face could we find among the men who 
lounged about on the sidewalk. We went into a large sitting- 
room. The most attractive part within was the bar, which 
extended the full length of the wall and occupied the entire 
left side of the room. ‘ Is this Mr. Hendricks?” asked Carl 
of the man behind the bar. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Are 
there some men here who expect us?” asked Robert quickly. 
“Well, who are you and who expects you?” asked Mr. Hen- 
dricks, looking rather curiously at us, when a hand was laid 
on my shoulder and I beheld — Big Frenchy! I grasped his 
hand. Herman and Robert rushed toward him. “Why here 
is Swede! How are 30U. old fellow? But where is Anton 
and Little Frenchy?” “I don’t know,” said Swede, sadly. 
“We left them at Mr. Shilling’s. Little Frenchy was sick, 
and I’m afraid he died. Anton went into a kind of partner- 
ship with Mr. Shilling about some kind of fishing business, 
and Big Frenchy and I left them in a coasting schooner and 
came here in November. We made another voyage in the 
same schooner and got back about a week ago.” Together 
we left the boarding house and went to a somewhat retired 
restaurant and saloon up on Market street, and had what 
Robert termed a “regular banquet.” We fairly lavished our 
wealth upon the occasion and spent — five dollars; and I doubt 
whether in all the annals of history a happier crowd ever 
gathered together or enjoyed a banquet more. It \vas past 
twelve o’clock before we broke up. Big Frenchy and Swede 
were both nearly drunk, but went off together promising to 
come to see us the next evening. Herman had partaken 


74 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


rather freely of beer and talked big; Carl was dead drunk; 
Eobert was tipsy, but had all his wits about him; and 1? well, 

I had swallowed five or six big schooners of lager and felt 
rather full and very uneasy. We managed to rouse Carl, and 
as we came out into the street the night air helped to revive 
us. It was Christmas. Alas! how few know its real mean- 
ing, and how many pervert it as we did that night. Carl fell 
down several times, but we helped him up, and thus we 
dragged on. I gave up some of the beer I had been drinking 
and felt considerably lighter. Eobert sang and danced all 
the way home. We reached our home at last and were soon 
lost in our illusions. 

“Oh, boys I my head, my head.’^ These were the first 
words I heard next morning, and it was Eobert who uttered 
them. I felt just what he said. Eobert called me, but I 
neither felt like talking nor like getting up, and so did not 
answer him. Herman, who was in reach of his feet, groaned 
as Eobert kicked him and draAvled out sleepily: “Let me 
alone.” After a pause Eobert raised up and said: “Boys, 
we had a regular spree, didn’t we? Hello! where is Carl?” 
Then I opened my eyes, raised up and looked around the room; 
so did Herman. Carl was not with us. “Oh! that’s all right,” 
said Herman ; “ he may#liave gone down stairs. Perhaps he i 
is eating breakfast ” It was nine o’clock. We got up from 
the floor, went down stairs into the back yard, bathed our 
faces at the pump, then entered the restaurant, took a cup of 
coffee and some bread and butter, and inquired about Carl. 
No, he had not been there. Where could he be? We went | 
out, and at a neighboring grocery store bought a bucket and • 
a glass ; also a tin washpan. Then we went to a dry goods 
store and bought two ten cent towels, and thus furnished our 
room. “Have you got any money?” asked Herman. “No,” 
said Eobert, “I gave my five dollars to Carl.” “I have my ^ 
five dollars that Captain Brickbat paid me,” I said, “but I 
gave Carl that ten dollar gold piece, the same he gave us in 
Valparaiso.” Herman had only two dollars and Hventy cents. 
Carl must have had twenty-five dollars. We waited all day 
and all night, still Carl did not return. “I am afraid,” said 
Herman the next day,” “that Carl has left us.” Carl had 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


75 


become our counselor. AVe depended upon him for all our 
plans and now we felt deserted indeed. Carl was a noble 
fellow, a fine sailor and reliable in most things except when 
it came to liquor. Poor fellow! I learned several months 
later that he left our room after we brought him home that 
Christmas night, and drank as long as he had money ; then 
got into a difliculty with some stranger, was arrested and sent 
to prison for thirty days. 

We stayed two weeks in this room. At the end of this 
time we had but two dollars cash on hand. On Saturday eve- 
ning we went back to Mr. Hendrick’s boarding house. The 
Black Eagle had sailed. Big Frenchy and Swede had gone on 
another coasting voyage. Mr. Hendricks told us that they 
had tried to find us, but had forgotten the number and were 
not even sure as to which street we lived on. AVe felt for- 
saken. We asked Mr. Hendricks what he thought we could 
do. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know. Could you ship as 
ordinary seamen?” “I think we could,” said Herman. “We 
were deck boys on the Black Eagle. Fred, there, was cabin 
boy, but he can steer and furl a royal and will get on all 
right.” “Have you any money?” asked Mr. Hendricks. 
“No, sir.” “Any clothes?” “Only what we have on.” 
^‘Pretty bad, pretty bad.” After, a pause he continued: 
“You’ll have to stay somewhere, and I’ll risk keeping you till 
you can get a ship. I’ll board you for ten dollars a week and 
jou can pay me out of your advance when you ship.” After 
supper we were assigned to a neat room up stairs. There 
were two beds. Herman and I took one and Robert, who 
snored and kicked about in his sleep, took possession of the 
other. Our ideas about the gold mines had all evaporated. 
We wanted to go to sea, so every morning we walked along 
the wharf until we knew every ship in the harbor. We 
watched them as they left and looked for others as they 
came. 

About two weeks had passed thus, when one evening Mr. 
Hendricks met us as we. returned from our evening stroll. 
“I think I can ship you to-morrow,” he said, “the schooner 
Mystic, bound up the coast, and will be back in two or three 
months.” We had seen the vessel and liked her. A 


76 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


coaster was new to us and we were anxious to go. Next 
morning Mr. Hendricks marched all his boarders (except five 
or six who had recently arrived and did not owe him enough) 
to the shipping ofiSce. Four seamen were shipped first. Then 
the captain of the Mystic, after inspecting each man, said to 
the shipping boss, “I want two ordinary seamen.” Mr. 
Hendricks pushed us forward. “Here they are,” said the 
boss. “I want two, not three,” said the captain, and Her- 
man and Eobert, who were heavier than I, were picked and 
they signed the articles. It was done so quickly and so me- 
chanically that it was over before I realized what was done. 
Mr. Hendricks waited to receive the check for the advance 
money. Seamen get forty dollars per month and ordinary 
seamen twenty-five, and one month’s wages is always paid in 
advance. As we walked back to the boarding house together 
Robert broke the silence and said: “I say, Herman, don’t 
let’s go unless Fred, can go with us.” “You’re right,” said 
Herman, emphatically, “ if Mr. Hendricks is going to sepa- 
rate us — well, we jumped the Borussia and the Concord and 
the Black Eagle, and by jingo we’ll jump him.” That made 
me feel better, and with cheering words we reached our 
boarding house. The next day was Sunday. Early Monday 
morning we were awakened. Mr. Hendricks came to our 
room before we were dressed. “Well,” he said, smiling,, 
“ you are going on a fine little trip, but you’ll be back in two 
months, and that won’t belong.” “But,” interposed Herman,^ 
“ Fred, must go with us or we can’t go. We have been to- 
gether so long, and we just can’t separate.” “That’s just 
what I want to see you about,” said Mr. Hendricks, fully 
equal to the emergency. “You two go and make that voy- 
age, and Fred, can stay wdth nie. My wife wants to keep 
him. She wants to see you right now,” he said to me. “Go 
and talk to her, and I’ll help Herman and Robert to get 
ready.” I had been helping Mrs. Hendricks some in the din- 
ing room. I now went reluctantly down stairs, hardly able to 
keep back my tears. Mrs. Hendricks was a good woman, and 
had already shown me much kindness, for w^hich I had gladly 
helped her in any way I could. “Fred.,” she said, as I en- 
tered the dining room, “ I don’t want you to go to sea. You 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


77 


stay here with us. You can help me. We won’t charge you 
any board and will give you what you may need, and later on 
you may get into some good position. That will be much 
better than a life among rough sailors. “Come,” she con- 
tinued in a gentle tone, “ help me now. Breakfast is nearly 
ready.” I said nothing, but spread the table cloth which 
Mrs. Hendricks had gotten out, laid the plates and had the 
table nearly ready, when Mr. Hendricks, the four seamen and 
Robert and Herman entered to eat their breakfast. They had 
to leave, and so had their breakfast earlier than the rest of 
the boarders. I asked Mrs. Hendricks to let me take the 
boys aboard. She consented. I could not bear the idea of 
their leaving me. When I entered the sitting room Mr. Hen- 
dricks was treating the men, who stood at the bar and laughed 
and talked. “ Come,” said Mr. Hendricks to me, “have a 
glass of good beer.” I took the glass he set down before me, 
but a taste was enough. It reminded me too forcibly of that 
spree. 

We went to the wharf where the Mystic lay, a beautiful 
schooner of some three hundred tons. Coasting was just then 
the thing among sailors. They paid good wages and made 
short voyages. The fare was good, but the work was hard 
and trying. “Come aboard,” called out the mate of the 
schooner, “come on, boys, we are ready to go.” I could re- 
strain my tears no longer, and sat down on a coil of rope 
near by. Herman sat down by my side and Robert squatted 
down in front of me, and for some moments we sat there in 
silence till we heard the mate’s voice again: “Come on, lads, 
eome on; let go that stern line and those braces.” Mr. Hen- 
dricks came towards us; “come,” he said, “quick, they are 
leaving. You’ll be all right. Fred, will stay with me and 
you will soon be back. Hurry up, now.^’ I took Herman’s 
hand, then Robert’s. Neither of us spoke a word. Then 
they went on board, the ropes were cast loose, the tow-boat 
pulled her out and they moved out into the harbor. I watched 
them as long as I could see them, then returned slowly to the 
boarding house. 

The day wore gradually away. It was well that Mrs. Hen- 
dricks kept me busy. Night came; I was assigned to a smaller 


78 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


room down stairs, joining the family room. For the first 
time in my life I felt really alone, utterly alone. That night 
I wrote a long letter to my mother, but after I had written it 
I tore it up. It was too sad. Poor, dear mother, I could 
not send her such an epistle of my troubles as that I had 
written. Then I wrote again; wrote her that I was well and 
doing well, that I hoped to make lots of money and would 
bring them lots of nice things from California. I wrote her 



“UTTERLY ALONE.” 


not to worry about me, that I was all right. Then sent some 
messages to a few friends and closed with much love to papa 
and sister and her own dear, sweet self. I folded the letter, 
sealed the envelope, went out into the street and walked up 
to the corner where I dropped it into the box. I lingered 
there some time and thought: oh! that I could have gone 
with it. Then I returned to my room and was sick; heart 
sick and home sick; oh! so home sick. It was late before I 
went to bed and — cried myself to sleep. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


79 


CHAPTER XL 

THE sailors’ boarding HOUSE. 

“Home is the resort of love, of joy, of peace and plenty ; where sup- 
porting and supported, polished friends and dear relations mingle into 
bliss.” — Thompson’s Seasons. 

Such is home, but such is not a sailors’ boarding house. 
There may be boarding houses that are homelike, but the 
sailors’ boarding house is never home like, and not unfre- 
quently it is a den of thieves, and the boarding master is the 
chief of sinners among them. A ship comes into port. The 
runners watch her. As soon as she comes to anchor they 
come aboard and catch the men. Sometimes, if the captain 
allows it, they come aboard before the ship enters the harbor; 
as all the runners have good boats they generally go out to 
meet incoming ships. These runners not only solicit for 
boarding houses, but also for clothing, jewelry, saloons and 
all kinds of resorts, both good and bad, generally bad. As 
soon as the crew decide with whom they will go, for they 
generally go together, the runner of their choice takes charge 
of the forecastle, waits on the table, helps pack the sea chests 
and even assists in the work on deck. Most of the runners I 
have known were ex-sailors, for “it takes a thief to catch a 
thief.” As soon as the men get ashore the runner leads the 
way to the boarding house. Here the new comers are treated 
with much enthusiasm, that is if they will have a big pay day. 
The bparding master and his family vie with each other in 
extending courtesies, and take a personal interest in each of 
the men. The old boarders, being long since busted, are also 
enthusiastic in view of this same big pay day, and augment the 
kindness of the master and his family. Then comes a good 
dinner or supper, as the case may be. The boarding master 
now interviews each of his guests in a friendly way, asking 
among other interesting (to him) questions. “I reckon you’ll 
have a fine pay day, won’t you? How much?” Of course 
Jack Tar tells all he knows and if the pay day warrants such 


80 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


a thing, the boarding master says: “Well, you have worked 
hard and deserve a good time. You’ll need a little money 
before you are paid off, so here is five dollars.” And then — 
Oh! no, the boarding master don’t let him go, but takes him 
to the outfitter and helps Jack to get a new suit of “shore 
clothes,” under garments, a stiff, white shirt, shoes, hat and 
all. The outfitter, not to be outdone in generosity by the 
boarding master, throws in a pair of cheap but pretty sus- 
penders, a gaudy neck tie, ditto; and also a gaudy handker- 
chief, ditto. No matter whether the clothes fit exactly, just 
so they cost the money. Jack scorns to buy anything cheap. 
As they leave the boarding master winks at the outfitter and 
whispers “twenty per cent.” Then they go to the saloon, 
“The standard resort for all the best men that come here,” 
etc. The master treats (at the expense of the saloon keeper) 
and then says to his guests: “So long, boys, have a good 
time. Come home when you feel like it and do just as you 
please.” Here, also, the twenty per cent is understood. 
Now the saloon keeper has his turn at the men. He is a jolly 
good fellow, calls each of the men by their given names and 
familiarly insists that they address him in the same way. He 
now becomes the sailors’ adviser, points out the various 
places of amusement, cautiously forestalling any other saloon 
or resort that might interfere with his own patronage. Thus 
the boarding master and the saloon keeper work hand in 
hand till they get all of Jack’s money, and then? Well, then 
they look for the next ship. A week, or at most ten days, 
suffice for a sailor to spend all his money, no matter how great 
a pay day he may have had, and then — well, he joins the old 
boarders till he ships again, when he settles down as if in his 
natural element and begins to plan how he’ll spend his next 
pay day. Such is about the average boarding house master, 
the average saloon keeper and the average sailor; of course 
there are exceptions, but not many. 

Mr. Hendrick’s boarding house was somewhat above the 
average, one of the few exceptions. While he sustained the 
usual relations to the outfitter, he had no connection with any 
saloon, but made up for the deficiency by having quite an at- 
tractive bar in the house. He often talked temperance, but 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


81 


mostly to the old boarders who had no more money to spend. 
Yet I have known Mr. Hendricks to show real kindness to 
the sailors, and Mrs. Hendricks was far above the average in 
such a position. She was kind hearted, and a woman of some 
culture and retinement. She was reared and educated in Liv- 
erpool, England. I did not learn her history, only that she 
married Mr. Hendricks some ten years ago, while he was a 
mate, and that after their marriage he quit the sea and started 
life anew in a sailors’ boarding house. 

The next Sunday after the Mystic left, I took a walk after 
dinner, hoping to find some little recreation and thus over- 
come that great lonely feeling that burdened my heart. I 
went to the cliff to look out at the Golden Gate. The Cliff 
House was not then built and the place was not as beautiful 
as now, yet it was even then a favorite resort and people 
gathered there especially on Sunday evenings, to breathe the 
fresh sea air and watch the seals playing in the water near 
the shore. I enjoyed my walk, but it made me still more 
lonely. I wished I were out on the great water, in the Mys- 
tic with Herman and Robert. I turned and walked slowly 
back to the city. When I reached Cearney street, the park 
was so inviting that I stopped and sat down on one of the 
iron seats. There were children happily playing, young peo- 
ple promenading or seated in couples on the rustic seats and 
seemingly talking “sweet and low;” 1 only was alone, lone- 
some, forsaken. A big Newfoundland dog came up to me, 
looked at me so sympathetically with his great intelligent 
eyes, wagged his shaggy tail, opened his mouth and seemed to 
say: “Don’t be discouraged, I’ll be your friend.” I snapped 
my fingers at him and he came gladly to me. He was so gen- 
tle, so friendly and — 1 put my arms around his neck and 
pressed his head to my cheek. It did me good. I felt less 
lonely and wished that I might take him with me. I rose to 
return to what was now a kind of home to me; my new friend 
followed as far as the gate, jumped up on me and seemed to 
say; “Good-bye, come back again and I’ll play with you and 
be your friend.” I hurried on and reached the boarding 
house just in time to set the table for supper. 

One morning, having finished my work in the dining room. 


82 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


I slipped into the family room, as I often did, to play for the 
children, two bright little girls, six and eight years old. They 
had a good piano. I ran over the keys, played some bright 
little ditties for the children, and drifted into a kind of a 
reverie to give expression to the loneliness I felt. I poured 
out all there was in my heart, wandering from melody to mel- 
ody — fragments from Oesten’s sweet little “Alpine airs,’^ 
which my father used to love so much, plaintive strains from 
Chopin and passages from Mendelssohn's Songs, with a dive 
now and then into a Beethoven Sonata. I was suddenly 
aroused from my dream by Mrs. Hendricks, who had entered 
unobserved by me, and now sat near my side sobbing as if in 
deep distress. “Oh, play on, please play on,” she inter- 
rupted, as I was about to ask the cause of her trouble, but 
the spirit that for a moment had given touch and expression 
to what was pent up in my heart had fled; my fingers seemed 
stiff, and I played mechanically. “Oh! how I love music, 
she said, passionately. “In my music, I find my real self; in 
it I pray, and hope, and find consolation; and when I’m hap- 
py — and sometimes I feel very happy in my children” — draw- 
ing the two little girls close to her as she said this, “I can 
find the best and purest expression of thanksgiving to Grod 
in my music.” Mrs. Hendricks was a good musician. She 
sang and played well. Mr. Hendricks was intelligent, and 
according to his own standard a good man, but a man of the 
world. He craved above all things to make money, and he 
seemed to make it. He dealt fairly with all his boarders, but 
had his own idea as to what was fair, and then stretched it to 
the utmost. Their two little girls I shall never forget. The 
oldest one, Rose, was instinctively fond of music, quiet and 
thoughtful, and would stand by my side, leaning on the corner 
of the piano and look up at me with her sweet, innocent face 
and her bright blue eyes showing plainly that she understood 
and appreciated the music I played. Gertie, the younger one,, 
also loved music, but was restless and full of play. 

One afternoon Mrs. Hendricks was all in a flutter. “AVe 
are going to a concert to-night,” she said, “ and you can go 
with us. Mr. Hendricks got the tickets this morning.” I 
could hardly believe it, and was completely dazed when, a 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 




little later, Mr. Hendricks took me, not to the outfitter, but 
to a real up town clothing store, and bought me a twenty 
dollar suit of clothes, the nicest I had had since leaving home. 
I had felt so sad and so lonesome at times sincfe Herman and 
Robert were forced to leave me, but now a bright sunbeam 
dispelled the darkness and the gloom; and when, soon after 
supper, we walked up the street, Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks on 
a little ahead and I following with the two little girls, one on 
each hand, I was really happy. When we arrived in front of 
the Winter Garden, then a popular resort, the great entrance 
was crowded. I picked up Gertie in my arms and pulled 
Rose along as best I could, following Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks. 
At last we reached the spacious hall. We were ushered to 
our seats, just the right'distance from the stage to hear well. 
The orchestra slowlj" entered, took their seats, tuned their in- 
struments and arranged their music. It was a German or- 
chestra, lately arrived. Forty men gathered on the stage. 
How natural and yet how strange it all seemed. I feared it 
was a dream and that I should awake and find myself out in 
the woods or on some ship haunted by Captain Brickbat, or 
Pop Eye, or even the dreaded Pot himself; but no, here came 
the conductor. He ascended the little rostrum in front of 
the orchestra, raised his baton, then “Heil die im Sieger 
Kranz” burst forth from the instruments. It was not a 
dream. This was not “that leetle German band,” but a 
splendid orchestra conducted by a master hand. They ren- 
dered a good programme, several Wagner numbers, among 
them, the Pilgrim Chorus, and march from Tannhauser, 
Schubert’s overture, “Rosamond,” interspersed with “The 
Beautiful Blue Danube,” and several popular works. I lis- 
tened, oblivious to all surroundings, till Mrs. Hendricks 
touched my shoulder and said “Come on, that is all.” I 
found Gertie asleep, but Rose held on to my hand and seemed 
as completely entranced as I was. I went home in a dream 
and dreamed of (how long ago it seemed to me now) how I 
used to go to concerts with my mother and little sister. My 
father was away at sea during most of the year. Mother, 
herself a fine musician, used to attend most of the best con- 
certs of each season. I remember hearing Wagner’s Orches- 


84 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


tra in the old Stadt Theater a number of times, with Wagner 
himself conducting. In the same opera house we heard 
Liszt capture an immense audience and carry them away. 
The great orchestras, led by Yon Bulow, Gungl, Strauss and 
other famous conductors passed before my mind, but what 
appeared most vividly in my dream was my mother and my lit- 
tle sister. How mother would talk about each piece of music, 
explain it with some weird legend or poem, and — “Hold on, 
Fred., where are you going?” Mr. Hendricks called to me, as 
I was walking on by the house. I awoke from my waking 
dream. Mr. Hendricks had carried Gertie, and Rose walked 
by my side as forgetful as I. “Was’nt that splendid?” re- 
marked Mrs. Hendricks, as we sat down to the table to eat a 
lunch about twelve o’clock that night. “Yes,” said Mr. 
Hendricks, “and didn’t that big, fat man, sitting in the mid- 
dle, close to the front, have the biggest horn you ever saw?” 

Tired but not sleepy, I went to my room. I could hear 
music, music, music all around me, now soft and plaintive, 
now bursting forth in volumes that shook the bed on which I 
lay. Yow I could hear a song, so — oh! so sweet. The song I 
heard so often when I was a little child, and it was my mother 
who sang it; that same sweet voice, those same sweet words: 

“Befiel du deine wege, 

Und was dein herze krankt, 

Der aller-treusten pflege, 

Des’ der die Himrael lenkt. 

Der wolken luft und winde 
Giebt wege, lauf und bahn, 

Der wird auch wege finden 
Die dein fuss gehen kann.” — 

Luther. 

TRANSLATION. 

Commit thou all thy ways, 

And whatsoe’er burdeneth thy heart. 

To Him who controls the sky. 

Who to the clouds, the rain and wind 
Gives pathway, guidance and direction. 

He too will find the pathway 
In which thy feet shall tread. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


85 


All was astir in the house when Mr. Hendricks aroused me 
next morning. Charley, our runner, had caught a new ship’s 
crew and had just landed them. There were twelve men. 
They had been out fourteen months in an American bark, 
shipped in New York bound for Australia, then came to San 
Francisco and as there was a good pay day in prospect, every- 
body w^as interested. An extra good breakfast had to be 
prepared. Some of them were rough customers, but that was 
nothing new. They had already been drinking and were very 
boisterous. One of them threw a plate at me as soon as he 
was seated, because breakfast had not been put on the table. 
The plate struck the wall, some pieces rebounded and struck 
two or three men on the backs of their heads. They cursed 
the fellow who threw the plate and — well, if Mr. Hendricks 
and several of the old boarders had not interfered, there 
would have been a general fight. Men who have been long 
accustomed to rough treatment and a hard life, frequently be- 
come most cruel themselves and are overbearing in every 
demand as soon as restraints are removed. “I want fifty 
dollars,” demanded the man who had thrown the plate at me. 
“I need it right away,” he said to Mr. Hendricks, but Mr. 
Hendricks had learned a thing or two and did not let him 
have it. Whereupon the plate slinger got angry and ad- 
dressed some strong language to Mr. Hendricks, .who, quick 
as a flash, grasped him by the throat, pushed him out of the 
door and hurled him into the middle of the street. Then, 
turning to the rest of the crew, he said, “Men, I want to treat 
you fairly, but if any of you don’t like this, you can just get 
out. This is an orderly house.” Two others, sympathizing 
rather with the man in the street, looked like fighting but 
went out, picked up their pal and went away. “Mr. Hen- 
dricks,” said one of the new men, “Its well you are rid of 
them. They gave us lots of trouble. They got arrested in 
Sidney and the captain had to pay about a hundred and fifty 
dollars to get them out and so they have no money due them 
anyhow.” “Yes,” said Mr. Hendricks knowingly, “Charley 
found that out and told me. Wish I had known it an hour 
sooner and I would have saved my plate and the breakfast 
they ate.” Such is life in a sailors’ boarding house. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


«6 


CHAPTER XII. 

AVITH SHORTY IN THE COSTA RICA. 

“I say young man, stop a minute,” called a man after me 
one morning about the first of February as I hurried along 
Montgomery street enroute to the meat market. I stopped, 
turned around and saw a gentleman coming toward me. “Are 
you a sailor?” he asked. I Avore the sailor shirt, or rather 
AA^hat Avas left of it, AA^hich the captain of the Concord had 
given me AAhen I belonged to his boat creAv. 1 ansAvered, 
“Yes; I have been to sea.” “Don’t you AA^ant to go on a 
steamer, the Costa Rica, belonging to the Panama line?” 
The man seemed anxious as AA^ell as in a hurry and continued, 
“We leave this eA^ening at fiA^e* o’clock. I want an assistant 
pantry man, forty-fiA^e dollars jier month. Will you go?” 
“How long is the voyage?” I asked. “About six AA^eeks,” 
he said. After a moment’s thought about Herman and Robert, 
I said that I AAmuld go. Then looking at me keenly, he asked 
again, “You aauII go?” “Yes.” “I can depend on you?” 
^‘Yes, sir.” “All right, coine aboard as soon as you can after 
dinner; be there by three o’clock. I shall depend on you.” 
Then he turned and left me. It came about so quickly that I 
could hardly realize Avhat I had done. Steamer Costa Rica, 
of the Panama line, assistant pantry man, I mused. I did 
not knoAV just exactly Avhat assistant pantry man Av^as, but felt 
sure he was a flunky. All the men and boys employed in the 
cabin as steAvards, pantry men, AA^aiters, etc., are flunkies and 
are rather looked doAvn upon by the regular seamen. I did 
not Avant to be a flunky; I wanted to be a seaman, but I Avas 
tired of the boarding house. I Avanted to make some money 
and be something, and above all things else I Avanted to go to 
sea. This AA^as the first chance I had had, and I would go. 

I hurried home and told Mrs. Hendricks at once. She AA^as 
someAvhat disappointed but Avas AAdlling for me to go. Mr. 
Hendricks, hoAvever, objected, told me all sorts of bad tales 
•about those steamers, and that the man AA^hom I saAv did not 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


87 


tell me the truth iibout that forty-five dollars per month, and 
finished his argument with, You’ll be a bigger fool than I 
take you for if you follow that shark.” I thought about all 
he said, but decided after all to go. I had no contract Avith 
Mr. Hendricks and so he could in no Avay force me to stay. 
At last when he saAV I was bent upon going, he too consented, 
€ven offered to lend me some money and get anything 1 might 
need in the Avay of clothing. However, I Avas afraid of the 
outfitter and so declined his kind offer. Six Aveeks, I thought; 
Herman and Robert AAill then be here. I shall haA^e some 
money. Oh! aa hat a time Ave Avill have. Six Aveeks, only six 
AA'eeks. 

I bade Mrs. Hendricks good-bye, leaving AAuth her my mes- 
sages for Herman and Robert; and those children — they cried 
Avhen I left and as I kissed them good-bye, I promised to 
bring them something from Panama. Then I shook hands 
AAuth a feAv of the sailors and after a cheerful “So long, Fred., 
€ome right back here AA^hen you return,” from Mr. Hendricks, 
I left the house Avhere I had seen the saddest, as AA^ell as a feAV 
of the brightest hours I had spent since leaving my native 
home. 

I found the Costa Rica alongside of the Avharf at the foot 
of Market street, the regular landing of the Panama steam- 
ers. As I crossed the gangAvay the deck AA^as alive Avith 
Chinamen Avho Avere at Avork clearing the deck of freight, bag- 
gage, provisions, etc. I asked the quartermaster Avhere I 
oould find the chief steward. “What do you Avant?” he de- 
manded gruffly. “I am the assistant pantryman,” I said. 
^‘Oh! yes,” he replied quite politely, “I’ll go AAuth you and 
help you find him.” I Avas quite surprised at this unusual 
kindness from a quartermaster, but learned the reason later 
on. “Well, here you are,” said the steAA^ard as AA^e met him 
and I recognized him as the man aa horn I had met in the 
morning. “I thought I could depend on you,” he continued, 
^‘my pantryman has been drunk for tAvo or three days and I 
had to dump him this morning. I don’t knoAV Avhat made me 
stop you, but I Avas just bound to have somebody— somebody 
who can let liquor alone.” And then toning doAvn, he said: 
“Are you a Christian?” The question Avas so neAv on board 


88 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


a ship and came so unexpectedly that I could not answer. 
“Well,” he continued, “I just felt like there’s your man^ 
when I met you this morning, and I hope we’ll get on all 
right.” By this time we had reached the large pantry. 
Shorty, he said to the second steward and chief pantryman,. 
“Here is your mate.” “Glad to see you, partner,” said 
Shorty who seemed to be Avell named, if not well made. 
Shorty was a short man, and at first sight, it was difficult to 
determine which was the bigger part, his head or his feet. 
But I had not been with him long before I found that the 
biggest part of Shorty was his heart. “Come right -in here 
and let’s get through,” said Shorty. So I took off my coat 
and went to work. The main task before us was the opening^ 
of some fifty cases of different kinds of wines and liquors and 
placing the bottles on shelves so made that the motion of the 
steamer could not move the bottles. At five o’clock we left 
the wharf. I was busy in the pantry and so did not go upon 
the deck, but learned from Shorty that we had about a hun- 
dred and twenty cabin passengers and perhaps three hundred 
in the steerage. I found myself now in a new position. I 
really had charge of the pantry and the liquor, under the 
supervision of Shorty, and had as my assistant a Chinaman, 
Pow. All the food was sent from the kitchen, down on the 
elevator, the kitchen being jiist above the pantry and every- 
thing was dished in the pantry and distributed to the eight- 
een Chinese waiters who carried it from the pantry to the 
tables in the main salon. At eight o’clock we served break- 
fast; at twelve o’clock, lunch; at five o’clock, dinner, the 
event of the day, and at eight o’clock a light tea. 

The weather was fine as we ran down the coast. Quite 
a pleasant change, as it had been raining almost constantly 
since Christmas. Shorty was a good companion, full of life 
and fun and always had an eye to business; and although he 
received sixty dollars per month, yet he made a great deal of 
extra money, but how he got it I could not at first find out. 
But little by little I caught on. One evening after dinner, 
Shorty said to me, “What would you do with all those wine 
bottles that were brought back from the dinner table?” I 
did not know. “Well,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


89 


“3’ou take those bottles,” and here he took up several out of 
a large basket, in which the}^ were deposited, “you see here’s 
a bottle nearly half full, its good Claret, here’s another and 
another.” Upon looking into the basket, we found a dozen 
bottles that had wine left in them. “Now,” he continued, 
“you fill up as many bottles as you can with these remnants 
and sell them the same as new bottles and every bottle of that 
will be a dollar in your pocket. See?” I saw, and filled up 
five bottles at once. There were also several Champagne 
bottles out of which I made nearly one new bottle and that 
would be worth seven and a half dollars. So after each meal 
I gathered together the fragments that were left, most of 
which I sold to the ofiicers and the crew. I now learned too, 
why the quartermaster had been so polite to me when I first 
came aboard. He used to get his liquor from my predecessor 
as did also the officers and engineers. Even among the deck 
hands and the firemen, who were Chinese, and among the 
steerage passengers, I found more customers than I could 
supply. The regular stock could only be had by the cabin 
passengers on an order from the chief steward, and so I had 
only the remnants to dispose of. 

The officers, four of them, and engineers were allowed each, 
one bottle per week of either brandy, whiskey or gin. They 
left their bottles in the pantry and would come and get a 
drink when they wanted it. Here too I had more or less 
remnants every week, and so I soon had a good paying side 
line that brought me good returns. My work w^as not hard. 
Pow did all the cleaning up and when rushed I could always 
get one or two of the Chinese waiters to help wash the dishes. 
I soon found my duties interesting and remunerative. As we 
sped along the Mexican coast, I wondered would we stop at 
Mr. Shilling’s landing? How much I wished to see those 
people and might not Anton and Little Frenchy still be there? 

One afternoon there was a sudden commotion on deck. 
The engine stopped and as I reached the deck, I heard “Man 
overboard!” pass from mouth to mouth among the cabin 
passengers. Lowering a boat was but the work of a moment 
and the men pulled astern for dear life. The second mate, 
a tall down east Yankee, stretched his long neck and strained 


90 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


his sight as the men pulled on, then stopped rowing— yes, 
they had him. They pulled the man into the boat; who was 
it? Nobody knew, but had supposed it was one of the cabin 
passengers. Somebody had seen a young man leaning over 
the stern and thought it was he. Now the boat returned and 
came alongside, was hoisted up and the passengers and crew 
crowded around. They lifted the unconscious man out of 
the boat, laid him down on deck and — it was a Chinaman. 
“Who is it ? ” demanded the captain as he elbowed his way 
through the crowd. “ A Chinaman, sir,” replied the second 
mate. “What?” burst out the captain angrily, “a damn 
Chinaman! Kick him overboard again. We’ve lost ten 
miles for the dog. Overboard with him.” But several of 
the deck hands, with the aid of some of the more kindly dis- 
posed passengers, saved the poor wretch from being thrown 
back into the briny elements from which he had just been 
rescued. The steamer might have stopped for the captain’s 
dog or any other good dog, had there been one on board ; but 
had it been known at first that it was a Chinaman, one of the 
deck hands, who had fallen overboard, in all probability the 
steamer would never have stopped and nobody would have 
cared. 

We stopped at several small ports along the coast of Mex- 
ico and Central America, but did not come to anchor. Small 
steamboats, or lighters, came off to meet us, took a few pas- 
sengers, the mail and perhaps some freight which was ready 
on our deck and we steamed on. We did not stop at Mr. 
Schilling’s landing, and if we had I most likely would not 
have had an opportunity to speak to (or even see) anybody. 
We were now nearing Panama. Shorty was well acquainted 
there. He too had once stopped at the Grand Hotel, and 
knew Mr. Loewe and the steward and dear old Jacob, so we 
planned to have a great old time in Panama. 

We arrived during Friday night, about twelve hours late, 
and came to anchor in the outer bay, after a passage of six 
teen days. On Saturday morning we weighed anchor about 
nine o’clock, having worked all night to get passengers’ bag- 
gage, mail and other things that had to be gotten on shore at 
once, upon the upper deck. At ten o’clock we dropped our 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


91 


anchor in the inner harbor about a quarter of a mile from the 
boat landing, l^ow there was a rush. Small steamers, 
lighters and boats crowded around us in the water, all trying 
to get to the gangway. The steerage passengers were mostly 
Portuguese, who were going to some of the West Indies Is- 
lands, and some fifty or seventy-five Chinese laborers. What 
a relief to the cabin crew when the passengers are all gone! 
The captain, purser, chief steward, chief engineer — all went 
on shore, and that night the Costa Rica was so quiet and so 
still that she seemed deserted. Shorty, who now had full 
charge, as the chief steward was ashore, was even kind to our 
Chinese waiters. “ Hurry up, boys,” he said to them; “ get 
things straight. Get all the sheets and pillow cases out of 
the state rooms, and have all your laundry ready to send off 
early Monday morning. Never mind polishing the brass. 
Give her a good clean sweep and knock off until Monday 
morning.” After supper (a good American supper instead 
of the fashionable five o’clock dinner), to which we invited 
the officers and engineers who remained on board, we all went 
up on the hurricane deck and talked until quite late. The 
first mate, Mr. Albers, was a German and a typical seaman, 
dignified and stern when on duty, but now free and easy; and 
he could tell more good stories than any man I ever heard. 
Mr. “Jim,” the second mate, the same tall, down east Yankee 
who saved that Chinaman, was the best all around ship mate 
I ever knew, and became my best friend before the voyage 
was over. The third and fourth mates were good fellows, so 
were the two engineers, one of whom was a Frenchman. We 
passed a most pleasant evening, during which we used up 
some four or five bottles of remnants which I had set up. 
W'hat made me feel so good was the idea that I now belonged 
to the officers’ mess — not that I was an officer, but I felt that 
I belonged to their crowd, and not to the Chinamen. So I 
felt happy when I retired. I arose early the next morning. 
It was Sunday. The church bells rang out in the morning air 
for early mass. How familiar, and how it reminded me of 
our first arrival there. Oh! if Herman and Robert were only 
there this morning with me on board the Costa Rica. 

After an excellent breakfast, the best the Costa Rica 


92 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


afforded, at the captain’s own table in the main salon, we 
locked the pantry and left things in charge of Pow. I put 
on my twenty dollar suit which Mr. Hendricks had given me, 
and Shorty, dressed in a clean suit of white, said “come on, 
partner;” and we entered our boat and went on shore. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

PROMOTION. 

Panama, the same quaint old Panama, ^xith its numerous 
churches and its still more numerous empty ceremonies and 
pompous processions — a form of godliness that lacks that 
simple, sweet spirituality that is the life of the true Christian. 
Yet even in Panama and among these Catholics, there are 
true Christians. How could I ever forget that good woman 
who saved my life in that gloomy hospital? How I wished 
that I might meet her on the street. I would rather have seen 
her than even dear old Jakob himself; but she told me the 
truth when she said as I left the hospital: “We shall never 
meet again till we meet in that sweet bye-and-bye. God bless 
you, my boy, and be a Christian.” These words were upper- 
most in my mind and heart as Shorty and I walked along the 
quiet streets that Sunday morning. 

I say we Tvalked, because I would not say anything that 
would hurt Shorty’s feelings, but to tell the truth. Shorty 
waddled like a duck. His feet were so large (he Avore a num- 
ber nine shoe) and his legs so short that he had to lean over 
each time he raised a foot. I was not then grown, yet I was 
fully four or five inches taller than he. He made up, how- 
ever, for his lack of height by being so nearly all round. We 
passed the cathedral, crossed the street and entered the side 
door of the hotel. How my heart beat. The porter did not 
recognize me, but spoke pleasantly to Shorty and grinned 
pleasantly to me — the usual Panama negro grin. Here is the 
stcAvard. He knew me and seemed as glad to see me as he 


TIIE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


93 


was to see Shorty. They starfed towards the steward’s room. 
I could wait no longer, so excused myself and went to the 
kitchen. I went out into the yard so as to have a peep into 
the window first and then surprise Jakob, through the back 
door. I saw him through the window sitting in that same old 
chair, smoking his stump pipe, giving directions to his assist- 
ant cook and the two successors of Herman and Kobert. I 
entered the door. They all stopped work and looked at me ; 
all the faces were new except Jakob’s. I went straight up to 
him, extended my hand and said : “Don’t you know me, Ja- 
kob?” He got up, took his pipe out of his mouth, looked at 
me from head to foot, then burst out in his usual “Haw-haAv- 
haAv, yes, haAV-haAv-haAv! I knowed you the minute you come 
into the door, l)ut didn’t know just Avho you were. Boy, how 
you come back here, and Avhat are you doing? I thought 
you Avere in Mexico. Well, AA^ell, well, haAA-haAA , and Avhere 
are your tAvo chums? Tell them to come right in and don’t 
be fooling the old man. What? not here! Gone on a coaster! 
In San Francisco ! Well, AA^ell, I did’nt think you fellows AA'ould 
ever separate.” AVhat a good long talk I had AAdth Jakob ; I 
forgot all about Shorty and stayed A\dth that dear old man. 
Dinner Avas noAv being prepared, elakob put doAAm his pipe, 
looked at the fires in the long cooking range, looked into each 
pot and pan as the assistant cook placed it on the table for 
his inspection, yet talked on all the while as he put pots and 
pans on the fire or into the ovens — and still asked questions 
and listened to me, talking and laughing as he Avent on with 
his Avork. He smelled and tasted first this and then that, 
then stooping doAvn, listened to first one oven then the other, 
all quite mechanically it seemed, yet keeping up AAuth all the 
boiling pots and baking pans and with me. A little bell tin- 
gled. “All ready,” called Jacob ; still he talked on, stopping 
now and then to wipe the perspiration from his face, and ev- 
ery few minutes stepi^ing to the basin to Avash his hands. Ja- 
kob Avas scrupulously clean. Dinner was dished up, the Avait- 
ers, some tAventy of them, came and carried load after load of 
dishes containing fragrant and attractive preparations that 
could not fail to arouse an appetite in the most eccentric epi- 
ciirian. Noav Jakob and I sat down to ha\"e a quiet, good 


94 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


dinner to ourselves. The assistant cook and the dish washers 
too sat down to their dinner. Jakob continued to talk and 
ask questions. He did most of the talking, as I did most of 
the eating. Dinner over and still we talked on until I had 
told him all about our trip through Central America, about 
the Concord, about stowing away aboard the Black Eagle and 
about everything that had happened, as far as I could remem- 
ber, since we left Panama. It was nearly three o’clock. “I 
must go,” said I, “and find Shorty.” “Yes,” said Jacob, “I 
want to see him, too. He’s a good little critter, except when 
he gets drunk. Don’t you go with Shorty’s crowd. He goes 
with some folks that I don’t like. You take care of him and 
don’t let him get drunk. Good-bye, lad, come and see me 
again, if you can.” I found that Shorty had left the hotel 
before dinner. The steward told me it would be hard to find 
Shorty and that it would be best for me not to find him. Af- 
ter a short talk with the steward, who was just about to go 
out for the afternoon, I met several of the waiters and clerks 
who remembered me. I could not resist the temptation as I 
passed the office, and 'so entered. Mr. Loewe lay on his 
lounge, reading. He sat up, looked at me, and when I called 
my name remembered me. I thanked him for his kindness 
to me when I stayed there. “Well,” he interrupted me^ 
“that’s all right. I had to make my own way, and if I can 
help a fellow, especially a young man, I am always glad to do 
so. I hope you will make a good man. I think you will. 
I’m glad you came in to see me.” How much good men can 
do by a feAV kind words to one who needs them. They are 
always appreciated and never entirely thrown away, even 
though they do no lasting good. These words from Mr. 
Loewe did me good and will continue to live in my heart and 
do me good all my life. 

I got back on board the Costa Eica by six o’clock. Shorty 
had not come. Pow had the table ready for supper. The 
mate had not returned, so there were but four of us at sup- 
per, Mr. Jim, the third mate, the. third engineer and myself. 
“You won’t see Shorty for a day or two,” said Mr. Jim. 
“When he gets started he don’t know when to stop. He 
used to live here and speaks Spanish well, so he is perfectly 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


95 


at home.” There was not much to do. The Chinese waiters 
went on with their scrubbing and polishing, thoroughly clean- 
ing everything in the staterooms and the salon. Pow gave 
gave me hints now and then so that I caught on to all that 
had to be done. 

Wednesday morning Captain O’Bryant came aboard. He 
sent for me. As I entered his beautiful state room on the 
upper deck, he surprised me by saying: “I discharged 
Shorty, can you take his place?” “I don’t know, sir,” I fal- 
tered. “I can try, and I’ll do my best.” “Very well,” he 
continued: “Mr. Henninger, the chief steward, will be here 
in an hour or so, and will give you your instructions.” Then 
he dismissed me, gave a few orders to Mr. Jim, called for his 
boat and went on shore again. While I was glad at my sud- 
den promotion, yet I felt deeply sorry for Shorty. Alas! 
how many other wise, good men, men who might have been 
great, fell by the wayside because of the one thing needful. 
Shorty had but that one fault, as far as I could see, and yet 
that one fault robbed him of his better self, of his opportu- 
nities, and of his position. When the chief steward came 
aboard, I met him at the gangway. “Well,” he said, “I saw 
the captain when he discharged Shorty and I asked him to 
let you take his place. Did he tell you?” “Yes, sir,” I 
said, “he was aboard this morning, but went ashore again.” 
“All right,” he went on, “now we are going to have a busy 
day. Most of our provisions will come to-day and you’ll have 
to superintend the placing of them, but I’ll help you.” Mr. 
Henninger did help me, indeed. Everything had to be over- 
hauled, cleaned and then rearranged. A new lot of wines 
and liquors came and the shelves in the taproom were refilled. 
Pow was far above the average Chinaman; he was intelligent 
and I could trust him with all the pantry work. I felt my 
importance in no small degree, dressed in my new uniform of 
white pants, coat and vest, with glittering brass buttons and 
a gilt band around my white cap. The chief steward received 
the cabin passengers as they entered the main salon, exam- 
ined their tickets and then introduced them to me. I took 
the tickets, punched them, and showed the holder to his state 
room. We had about eighty cabin passengers going back. 


96 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS* 


After eleven days in port, on a Tuesday morning we 
hove anchor and steamed out to sea. My duties were now 
to personally attend to the captain’s state rooms on the up- 
per deck. His state rooms consisted of a double room, one 
for a sleeping apartment and the other a sitting room and 
parlor. These apartments were elegant and furnished with 
the most exquisite and unique taste at the captain’s own ex- 
pense. It had been Shorty’s pride to keep them in perfect 
order. I tried to do the same. I also had to wait on the 
captain’s table, at which sat the captain, the first mate, the 
chief engineer, the purser, and a few select passengers, eight 
in all. I had one Chinaman to help me at the table and also 
in the captain’s room, but had to answer all summons myself. 
Beside these duties, 1 had charge of the eighteen waiters and 
had to superintend their work and also the work in the pan- 
try. The chief steward made out the bill of fare for each 
meal, also provided the fare for the steerage passengers and 
the crew, issued all orders for provisions to the cook, and was 
held responsible for the contents of cabin, kitchen and store 
room. The Costa Rica was a splendid sea boat, about nine 
hundred tons burden, not clumsy, and yet heavy enough for 
sea. The captain was a quiet, stern man, the most gentle- 
manly captain I ever knew outside of the navy. He loved 
dress and put on a clean white suit every morning. He was 
fond of a good cigar, of which he kept an ample supply and 
smoked almost incessantly. He had his moods. Sometimes 
he would not speak to me for several days, then again he 
talked freely. One morning, as I brought him his early cup 
of coffee, about six o’clock, he said: “Fred., when you want 
to smoke a good cigar take one of mine, but don’t do like 
Shorty, he used to help himself and then treat all his friends.” 
He observed the same dignified demeanor toward the officers 
and passengers and even to the quartermasters, but he could 
not stand a Chinaman. If he wished anything done about 
the quarter deck while two or three Chinese deck hands 
might stand near him, yet he sent for the officer of the deck, 
issued his orders to him, and the officer commanded the Chi- 
naman. My hardest task was to wake up my Chinese waiters. 
They were always sleepy, but especially so in the morning. I 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


97 


was just a little afraid of them too, for two or three of them 
had kicked and struck at me more than once as I shook them 
vigorously in their bunks. I told my trouble to Mr. Jim, 
who was at once the terror of the Chinamen and the best 
friend they had on board. He would never allow them to be 
mistreated, so far as his authority could prevent it, but was 
also the most exacting officer when it came to duty. “All 
right,” said Mr. Jim, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You bring 
me a good cup of coffiee when it’s my morning watch on deck 
and I’ll get them up for you.” So the next morning I brought 
Mr. Jim his coffee and after finishing it, he walked down the 
steps that led into the part of the steerage occupied by my 
waiters. He went down the steps coughing, grunting and 
stepping heavily with his big boots, and by the time he had 
got down — why they were all up. That worked fine and I had 
but little further trouble. One morning, intending to relieve 
Mr. Jim of the trouble, I walked heavily down the steps, 
grunting and coughing. They were all up, but at sight of 
me they began jabbering and some jumped back into their 
bunks. 

“Here somebody stealee whiskey,” said Pow to me one 
morning, as he pointed to the shelf reaching from the corner 
to the little sliding window on the starboard side of the pan- 
try. The bottles belonging to the officers and engineers stood 
on the shelf. “Who do you reckon did it?” I asked Pow as 
I looked at the two empty bottles nearest the window. “Me 
dun know,” said he, “ah! me watchee to-night.” “All 
right,” I said. “You watch at twelve o’clock, when the 
watch changes, and I’ll get up at four and watch.” When I 
got down into the pantry about half past three the next morn- 
ing, the bottles were still full as we. had left them the night 
before. Eight bells struck. The firemen filed by the forward 
stairway on the upper deck, and went down to the fire room. 
Then the watch being just relieved came up on deck and 
stopped by the stairway. As I peeped through that little 
window, I could see a tall, haggard looking Chinaman come 
dowm the stairw^ay, which w^as close to the pantry. The little 
window was pushed open, his long, bony fingers, followed by 
a longer and still more bony arm, reached in and took the 


98 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


nearest bottle. He put it to his lips and I heard the contents 
gurgling down his throat, then he reached in again after the 
second bottle (he could not reach the third), then he went 
up the stairs arid the two bottles passed along the file. Di- 
rectly he glided noiselessly back again and replaced the empty 
bottles and was gone. 1 told Pow about it and asked what 
was to be done? “Tellee captain?” he asked, with a doubt- 
ful look on his face. “No,” said I, “that will be too hard on 
them.” “Ah! me fix ’em,” he said, animated with a new 
idea. That night, just before we left the pantry, Pow filled 
two bottles with coal oil, placed them nearest the window 
and said, while he laughed heartily, “see?” The next morn- 
ing the two bottles were empty and we had no further trouble 
in that direction. 

We now crossed the mouth of the California Gulf, where 
we had a rough day of it, with a heavy breeze and a short 
breaking sea, and most of our passengers were sick. Then 
we ran down the coast of Lower California, and on Thursday 
afternoon, after the usual sixteen days’ passage we entered 
the Golden Gate, and were moored alongside of the wharf 
from which we had departed. I had about ninety dollars of 
remnant money and tip money from the passengers, besides 
having nearly one-and-a-half month’s wages due me. Oh I 
what wealth, and what a time I would have with Herman and 
Robert. Dear boys. I somewhat looked for them at the 
wharf when we arrived. There were crowds of people there 
waiting as we hauled alongside. They had come to meet pas- 
sengers or some of the crew, but Herman and Robert were 
not among them. It was nine o’clock before I could leave, 
but I could not wait till next morning. I wanted to surprise 
them as much as possible, so I put on my new uniform, 
walked up the wharf, crossed Market street and almost ran 
along Montgomery street till I reached the corner of Pacific,, 
then stopped a few minutes to get my breath and calm down. 
No, I had not forgotten my little presents for Rose and Ger- 
tie, two pairs of quaint little Panama shoes; in addition to 
which I bought a nice box of candy and then walked proudly 
up to the house. Mr. Hendricks stood behind the bar a& 
usual. It was nearly ten o’clock. He hardly recognized me 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


99 


in my uniform, but reached out his hand when he did recog- 
nize me. “Better go in and see the folks, if they haven’t 
gone to bed,” he said. Mrs. Hendricks was still up, and 
opened the door when I knocked. She seemed real glad to 
see me. The children were asleep, but she woke them, and 
they were delighted with their shoes, and even more so with 
their box of candy. I could hold back no longer; “Have 
Herman and Robert gone to bed ? ” I asked. “ They are here 
are they not ? ” “ No,” she said, “ they are not here.” But 

they’ll be here, won’t they ? ’^ I asked anxiously. “ No,” said 
Mrs. Hendricks, and she took both my hands and continued 
slowly — even tenderly — “No, I might as well tell you the 
truth at once. I don’t want to deceive you. They have been 
here, but have gone again. They shipped on a big German 
ship for Australia, and will go home from there, and you’ll 
not see them again.” I could not restrain my tears. When 
I looked up, after some moments, I noticed that Mrs. Hen- 
dricks wiped the tears from her own face. I appreciated her 
sympathy, but that could not make up for my sore disappoint- 
ment. 1 could not bear to stay there that night, but slowly 
walked back to the Costa Rica. The steamer seemed again 
deserted, and looked as lonesome as I felt. The quarter- 
master on watch leaned drowsily over the gangway as I passed 
him. “ It’s just my luck,” he muttered as I gave him a cigar, 
“ to have to stand watch the first night in port, and I want to 
go home so bad.” He had a family who lived across the bay 
in Oakland, and I wished from my heart that he could have 
gone. I would gladly have taken his place, but that was 
against the ship’s rules. As I entered the salon it too was 
deserted. Even the Chinese waiters and my man Pow had 
all gone ashore. I entered my little room near the pantry, 
put away my new uniform, which had lost its charm, laid 
down in my bunk and wished that I too could have gone 
home. The same work of unloading and cleaning up were 
mechanically gone through with, then came pay day. I was 
only paid at the rate of forty-five dollars per month, but was 
now shipped as second steward, at sixty dollars per month. 
New freight was piled on the wharf and stowed into the 
steamer. I had some new waiters, but most of the old waiters 


100 


THE STORV OF THE SEAS. 


were back. Pow stayed with me. We had a new help in the 
pantry, and duties were slightly changed. We had no assis- 
tant pantry man, so Pow became really the pantry man, but I 
handled the liquors and remnants. Then came the passen- 
gers, about a hundred and fifty, and again on Thursday even- 
ing at five o’clock about the last of March we left, amid the 
cheers of the crowd who stood on the wharf, on through the 
harbor, and out through the Golden Gate into the broad Pa- 
cific Ocean. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MISS SOPHIA. 

It was autumn in 1874. The weather was beautiful. The 
foliage of the trees had just begun to assume that rich, varied 
coloring which is seen at its best only for a few days in each 
year. Fruit was abundant and cheap. The juciest peaches, 
the finest grapes, apples, pears, figs, pine-apples, bananas, 
oranges — in endless variety — were piled upon tables or in 
booths on nearly every street corner. The wharfs were heavy 
with the products of mother earth. Grain, potatoes, vegeta- 
bles and fruits lay about in heaps ready to be carried away to 
all parts of the earth by ships or railroads. There may be no 
Christmas like Christmas in Germany, but there is no autumn 
like autumn in California. Everybody was glad; at least, so 
it seemed to me as I, lost in thought, walked down Cearney 
street. 

I had made five voyages with the Costa Rica, four to Pan- 
ama and one to China. The same company ran the two lines 
of steamers and sometimes steamers were changed from one 
line to the other, as the Costa Rica had been. We stopped at 
Shanghai, Yokohama and Hong Kong. In Hong Kong we 
went ashore and took a stroll about the streets. At last we 
reached a large four-story building which seemed to be a 
hotel. There was a placard in front but we were unable to 
read it and hence ivere forced to do without the information 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


101 


which it contained. Three of us decided to enter and partake 
of a real Chinese dinner. We entered. Instead of the spa- 
cious halls and cool apartments of the lirst floor in American 
hotels, we found the kitchen, servants’ apartments and gen- 
eral work rooms. Everybody is classed in China, and accord- 
ing to your social rank is the height (literally) at wliich you 
dine. Ordinary people occupy the second floor, officers and 
other great men the third floor, and only the highest ranks of 
the nobility the fourth floor. No dirty or ragged person is 
allowed to enter at all. AAe learned that the placard at tlie 
front door, which we had tried to decipher, read “No bare- 
foot people admitted here.” As we wore our uniforms we 
were taken for United States officials and were conducted to 
the elegant dining hall on the third floor. The first thing 
they brought to us was an exquisite little china cup contain- 
ing about a tablespoonful of the most fragrant and delicious 
tea I ever saw. “Say, what’s this?” asked Billy, a little En- 
glishman who was one of my shipmates aboard the Costa Kica. 
“I don’t know%” I said, “unless it’s punch tea.” Then turn- 
ing to the dignified steward, who, dressed in his soft suit of 
’white silk, glided about superintending the waiters, Billy said, 
“Say, bring us some more of this.” The steward bowed and 
motioned to a waiter who at once obeyed. A slight smile 
passed among the other guests in the hall, as this tea is simply 
given as an appetizer, and one is never expected to take more 
than a tablespoonful. There were two other tables beside 
ours and seven other guests, four at one table and three at the 
other. As we entered the hall they had all arisen and bowed 
very profoundly. Everything was done formally and ceremo- 
niously. Our dinner was served in a most elaborate style and 
required three hours to partake of the various courses. .We 
had no knives or forks, but had chop sticks and a spoon with 
a shovel shaped bowl and a long handle. As none of our 
crowd were chemists I shall be unable to tell you what any of 
the ingredients of our dinner were, for it was all served in 
mush form ; but the most delicate, the richest and most ap- 
petizing flavors I ever tasted, I tasted in Hong Kong. Hence, 
though my stay in' China was only one day, yet my memories 
of that day are very pleasant. 


102 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


I had grown tired and asked for my discharge from the 
Costa Eica. I had just left Mr. Henninger, who had been a 
true friend to me. It was largely due to his preaching that 1 
had saved my money, and he had been with me that morning 
to the German Bank where I had deposited nine hundred dol- 
lars after having reserved some two hundred and fifty dollars 
for personal use. Mr. Henninger rather reproached me for 
leaving the service where I had done so well, but I could see 
no further advancement ahead of me. Besides, I wanted to 
be a real seaman and then go back home, ship with my father 
and eventually succeed him in his command. I could not 
bear the idea of going back as a flunky. I knew father 
would laugh at me and so I had quit the Costa Eica. I did 
not go about Mr. Hendricks’ boarding house, except on an 
occasional visit. The crowd there did not suit me. I had 
saved my money mainly to go to a nautical school, and study 
navigation and seamanship. There was no such institution 
at San Francisco, and so I did not know what to do except I 
wanted to go to sea right. 

I was interrupted in my reverie by finding myself in a great 
crowd, gathered in front of a building. I looked up and saw 
a large placard, on which was printed : 

“bulletin. 

Wanted at once. 

75 men to work in the dry docks, $3.00 per day. 

20 brick masons, $5.00 to $7.00 per day. 

25 waiters for restaurants and hotels, $30.00 to $60.00 per 
month. 

Cooks and house servants; white, colored and Chinese. 

Also wanted, clerks and book-keepers. 

Call within.” 

It was at the Central Employment Office, and all sorts of 
people, old and young, men, women and children were gath- 
ered about the door. As I stood there looking on, a gentle- 
man asked me, “Are you looking for employment, young 
man ? ” I hardly knew what to say, and hesitated for a mo- 
ment, then answered, “No, sir; not exactly. I have just quit 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


103 


a Panama Line steamer, and stopped to look at this crowd.” 

Don’t you want a good permanent position as head waiter 
in a first class hotel ? ” I wore my uniform, and so he knew I 
was a flunky, and that worried me. “I don’t know, sir,” I 
said.” “ Come, go with me and take dinner, and if you don’t 
like the place you need not stop.” I did not know what else 
to do, and so went with him. We went to the ferry, crossed 
the bay to Oakland, got on the train and stopped at the cor- 
ner of Seventh street, where we entered the Eureka Hotel. I 
learned now that his name was Mr. Maier, and that he was 
the proprietor. He asked me to take a seat for a few min- 
utes, and said that he would return presently. I sat down on 
a comfortable chair and looked around. Truly, it was a beau- 
tiful place. The spacious veranda, the lovely garden to the 
left, the elegance within, all were inviting. “I thought you 
were a steward on some steamer,” he said as he returned, 
‘‘and they are the best dining room men that can be had. 
Come,” he continued, as he led the way, “look at our dining 
hall.” It was the most beautiful I had ever seen, finished in 
white and gold, handsomely furnished and having a kind of 
rostrum extending the full length of the room upon which 
waved the most beautiful palms and the richest plants of 
tropical birth. “This room measures eighty by one hundred 
and twenty feet,” he said, “ and the ceiling is forty feet high. 
I had all the furniture and fittings made to order, and I think 
I have the most complete as well as the most convenient es- 
tablishment in California.” 

We met Mrs. Maier in the garden, and in a few minutes we 
had concluded a bargain. I was to get fifty dollars per month, 
and take charge of the dining hall and pantry; was to have 
six Chinese waiters in the hall and one disher in the pantry, 
and was to go to work at once. Almost against my own will, 
I found myself engaged in the same kind of business which 
I had just given up, as I thought, forever; the only difference 
being that I was now on solid ground instead of the rolling 
sea, and in a hotel instead of a steamer. But, at all events, 
it was a change, and there was some difference after all. In 
a few days I found my work much more pleasant than I had 
supposed. Mr. and Mrs. Maier were very kind, especially 


104 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


Mrs. Maier, with whom I had most to do. There were four 
children. Henry, the oldest, was eighteen or nineteen years 
of age; Miss Emma, about seventeen ; Sophia about fifteen, 
and Ida, “the baby,” was nine or ten. They were all musi- 
cians, and especially Sophia, who sang beautifully. One ev- 
ening as the family with a few of the guests were gathered in 
the parlor, where I had been asked to assist in some music, 
Mrs. Maier, in the course of general conversation, said: 
“ Yes, we are all busy here. We all have our duties. Henry 
has charge of the garden; Emma looks after the parlor, the 
ladies’ sitting room and the verandas, but” (looking sidewise 
at Miss Emma) “she has a sweetheart now, and I’m afraid 
she will resign her position here before long.” I noticed a 
certain young man who seemed interested in that remark, and 
blushed, but Miss Emma did not seem at all embarrassed, 
rather seeming to like it. Then Mrs. Maier pointed to So- 
phia and said: “ She is the most industrious of all. Sophia 
superintends all the servants up-stairs, looks after the rooms 
and corridors and cares for all the linen. And Ida? Yes, 
Ida is busy too, looking after our birds and the cats. ’ ’ I found 
out, too, that Ida’s task was no small one. They had thirty 
or forty canary birds— eight in the dining hall among the 
flowers — and also two parrots. Ida was fond of these birds, 
and to keep them clean, supply them every morning with 
fresh food and water, care for the sick birds, and treat the 
baby birds, kept her busy all the day long, besides keeping off 
the cats, which were numerous, and Avhich Ida loved almost 
as much as she did her birds. 

We had about forty regular boarders, the majority of whom 
were Germans, as were also Mr. and Mrs. Maier. Hotel life 
offers a broad field for the study of human nature, and here 
at Eureka Hotel we had busy people and idlers, doctors, law- 
yers, merchants, preachers, miners, engineers, farmers, me- 
chanics, bankers, book-keepers, clerks, fathers, mothers and 
children, old maids, old bachelors, widowers and widows, and 
last, but not least, the chief of police, a gallant bachelor of 
forty. Eureka Hotel was not as large as the Grand Hotel in 
Panama, but it was more elegant and less formal. Mrs. Maier 
prided herself on the Eureka’s being home like. It became 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


105 


daily more home like to me, and Miss Sophia did much toward 
making it so. When the family came to breakfast, generally 
after most of the guests were through, I waited on their table. 
Mrs. Maier told me that I need not wait on any table myself, 
but send one of the waiters. However, I served the family 
myself. They seemed to like it and it was a pleasure to me. 
One morning, after the rest of the family got up. Miss Soj^hia 
said: “Mr. Baars” (she always called me Mr. Baars while the 
rest of the family and the guests called me steward), “Mr. 
Baars, come and eat your breakfast with me. It always takes 
me longer than the rest and I don’t like to eat by myself.” 
Of course I did so and called Ling, my right hand man. to 
serve us. Several times she even came late, so that we had 
our whole breakfast together. After breakfast she would 
stay a while and help me here and there, and it was but a little 
while before I liked Miss Sophia better than any of the rest 
of the family, in fact I liked her better than anybody I ever 
knew anywhere, and that little girl in Hamburg, the sweet- 
heart of my childhood, was “laid in the shade” by Sophia. 
One evening, as we sat under the shade of a spreading chest- 
nut tree, an ideal retreat, I actually dared— I told her that I — 
I was going back to Germany some day — and — and if she 
would not like to — go — to Germany and — and — see my 
mother?” She said: “oh! yes, that would be delightful.” 
Of course that settled it all. Intoxicated with my dream — 
no, it was not a dream, it was reality, for 

“I loved Ophelia (Sophia) — forty thousand brothers 
Could not with all their quantity of love, 

Make up my sum.’' — H amlet. 

I had begun to read Shakespeare lately. While at the 
Hamburg Gymnasium I translated it, but now I read it, under 
the instruction of Miss Sophia. Thus time sped quickly on. 
When my work was hard, I thought of her and it grew light; 
when I was in trouble, I told her and she banished it. My 
main troubles were caused by a few of our guests. One was 
a Miss N. She was really “ Mrs.” somebody, but insisted on 
being called by her maiden name. The maiden had long 
since gone but the name was still there. It was rumored 


106 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


that she was a grass widow, or rather had been some ten or 
fifteen years ago, but she insisted in spite of the rumor that 
she was Miss N. She rarely came to the table without find- 
ing more or less fault with everything. She generally found 
more, rarely less. This mornicg, though I felt so happy, she 
called me as soon as she sat down at her private table. 
“Steward,” she said, sharply, “have a clean table cloth put 
on this table. Look at these spots.” I called Jingo, my 
waiter on that quarter of the dining hall. Jingo came with a 
smile, took the cloth into the pantry, then brought it back, 
spread it and reset the table. It was all right. The steak, 
then the eggs were promptly sent back to the kitchen and 
Jingo just as promptly put them into another dish and 
brought them back to Miss N. “There,” said she. “why 
can’t the cook do them right at first and not have me waiting 
here.” Thus “by Jingo” I managed her. Perhaps Miss N. 
had a grudge against me mainly because I always kept the 
young men, widowers and bachelors away from her, and 
seated them on the opposite side of the hall. She saw that I 
had the advantage of her and so she relented. One day she 
was very considerate, called for no change, asked for nothing 
extra, and accepted and ate nearly the regular bill of fare as 
it was served at dinner. That evening when she came in for 
tea, I asked our chief, the aforementioned gallant bachelor 
and head of the Oakland Police, to let me change his table 
just for that evening. He kindly consented and I placed him 
next to Miss N. The chief really enjoyed it and so did I as 
Miss N. gave me a look that said, eternal friendship. 

Another troublesome customer was a Mr. Brown. Nobody 
knew exactly his business nor anything about him in particu- 
lar. We called him Mr. Brown because he always wore a 
shabby brown suit of clothes. He was very disagreeable and 
had nothing of the better side of character in which Miss N. 
abounded. Mr. Brown was not a heavy eater, but had the 
most exquisite taste in the hotel. His meats had to be just 
so done, no more and no less; eggs the same, one fried on 
one side only, the other boiled about half done. Sometimes 
Jo, our cook, had to fix three or four eggs before he hit it, 
and then he wanted to hit him. Mr. Brown was most partic- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


107 


ular about his coffee; it had to be hot — not boiling — but hot. 
One morning at breakfast Ling had carried his coffee back 
twice, when Mr. Brown called out imperiously: “I say, stew- 
ard, you come here. Take this coffee back to the kitchen 
and make it hot — hot — I want it hot.” I said as politely as I 
knew how, “Yes, sir.” The best way to manage fellows like 
this, is not to get mad, but smile pleasantly on them and be 
polite. That nearly kills them, at least it did Mr. Brown. I 
took his cup, handed it to Ling and said: “Come on and fix 
the gentleman’s coffee.” Jo was mad. “Give it here,” he 
said, “I’ll make it hot for him.” He then put cup and sau- 
cer into a pan of boiling water, placed a small colfee pot on 
the stove, heated some coffee very hot, then poured the hot 
coffee into the hot cup, placed the hot cup in the hot saucer 
and Ling took it on a small tray to Mr. Brown. I waited a 
moment and when I re-entered the dining hall Mr. Brown was 
as hot as his coffee, but said nothing more. 

Miss Sophia was my comfort in all these troubles. “That 
Mr. Brown,^’ she said, “is only a transient, and comes for but 
two or three days in each month, and that won’t be much.” 

Two gentlemen about thirty years of age, one smoothly 
shaven, the other with a heavy black mustache, had been with 
us for a weeji or two. They attracted a good deal of atten- 
tion. They were miners and seemed to have plenty of money, 
and that was very attractive in California, and I believe is 
elsewhere. They seemed quite intimate and were always to- 
gether. One day while at dinner they seemed to have a dis- 
pute about something. I went over toward their table, but 
before I got there the smooth shaven man pulled his friend 
backward in his chair, struck him two or three heavy blows 
in his face and then handcuffed him. Our chief came quickly 
to the scene; the smooth shaven man whispered something 
to the chief and the three went out together. When the 
chief returned to finish his dinner, he told me a strange story 
as follows : The man with the mustache was a murderer and 
thief. For several years this smooth shaven man, a detective, 
had followed him till he found him at work in one of the 
gold mines. The detective disguised himself, found employ- 
ment in the same mine, won his victim’s confidence and played 


108 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


the part of a friend. They made money, were paid off and 
came to Oakland to rest a while. By this time the detective 
had learned all he wanted to know; the friend (?) turned foe 
and took his victim prisoner. “ Such things happen often, 
said the chief, as if the affair was an every day occurrence to 
him. 

What a blessing is music! How it has helped me all along 
through life, and how often in these after years have I 
thanked God and my mother and my teachers for the music I 
learned. I felt it more now than I had ever before. Here at 
Eureka Hotel doors were open to me that would otherwise 
have been shut in my face. At first I only played Sophia’s 
accompaniments, then played some solos, and as I managed 
to practice a little every day, I soon had a repertoire that 
would do for any ordinary occasion, and where I would oth- 
erwise have been treated simply as a servant, I was now 
treated as a gentleman and there rarely was an entertainment 
or reception, or any kind of a gathering in the hotel parlors 
but that I had a part in the programme and a share in the 
enjoyment. So the months passed by. Christmas came and 
again the rainy season poured down upon us. 

One Sunday morning in March, 1875, I was told that a man 
wished to see me at the back door. As 1 stepped out, who 
should I see but Carl — the same Carl whom I first saw in Val- 
paraiso and with whom Herman, Robert and I had come to 
San Francisco. Carl, poor fellow, was I not glad to see him? 
No, not as he now looked — ragged and dirty. He had lived a 
kind of vagabond life since he left us that night, last Christ- 
mas a year ago. “Come in,” I said, “I’ll give you some 
breakfast.” He ate ravenously. I gave him some money — 
two dollars I believe — and asked him how he was getting 
along. “I only come over to bring you a note from Mrs. 
Hendricks,” he said and then handed it to me. It read: 
“There is a letter here for you and you had better come and 
get it yourself.— Mrs. Hendricks.” A letter, I thought, from 
whom can it be? Carl did not know anything about it. I 
sent word by Carl that I would come over after it that evening. 
Most likely, I thought, it’s a letter from Captain O’Bryant or 
Mr. Henninger, or could it possibly be a letter from home? 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


109 


At three o’clock I left and as soon as I crossed the bay I 
went straight to Mr. Hendricks’ boarding house. “Yes,” he 
said, “here is a letter for you. It has been here a month or 
more. I forgot to give it to you when you were here last and 
this morning my wife found it and sent Carl to tell you. She 
was afraid to let Carl have the letter for fear he would lose 
it. Here it is.” I took the soiled envelope. It had a Ger- 
man stamp on it. I recognized the handwriting. It was from 
my mother. I tore it open; it was the same dear, familiar 
handwriting. Mother wrote that all were well except father, 
whose health was failing. That they all had been deeply 
grieved when I ran away from the Borussia, and that they 
all went to meet me when the steamer came back — without 
me. “Come back,” mother pleaded, “oh! my dear, my only 
boy, come back to us.” She stated, further, that she received 
a letter from “a friend” (the sister of charity) in Panama, who 
wrote that I had been sick but was better now. Then I looked 
at the date of the letter. It was written August the 10th, 
1873. This was about the first of March, 1875. I learned, 
later, that the letter had remained in Panama nearly a year, 
then was sent aboard the Costa Kica, from there to the ofiice 
in San Francisco, thence by some means to Mr. Hendricks 
But, thank God ! I had received it. I would not have taken 
a thousand dollars for that letter. I read it again and again, 
■“Come back, my dear, my only boy, come back to us.” These 
Avords rang in my ears all night. Next morning I read the 
letter over again, and again those sad, appealing words, “my 
only boy, come back to us,” struck deep into my heart. 


CHAPTER XY. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

“There’s a big circus coming, and they are going to stop 
with us.” With these words little Ida came dancing into the 
dining hall on Monday morning. “Circus?” I asked, “when 


no 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


will they be here?” “This evening,” she said, “papa got a 
telegram just now, and the whole circus is coming here.” 
Happy child. She talked about the coming circus as she at- 
tended to her birds, and her happiness found ready response 
in her little pets, for as she entered and they heard her voice 
they sang with all their might and filled the spacious dining 
hall with the gladness of their song. But my own happiness 
had fled. Those sad words of my mother, “my only boy, 
come back to us,” re-echoed constantly in my mind and heart. 
Even Miss Sophia could not comfort me that morning, as we 
lingered behind the rest at the breakfast table; “I would go 
home,” she said at last, “yes, I would go home if I were you.” 
And then I was worried because she did not seem more agi- 
tated at the thought of my leaving. 

That evening about four o’clock some twenty-five or thirty 
people came in. They were the principal artists of Barnum’s 
Great Circus and Consolidated Shows. There was a rush all 
over the hotel, and I, too, was very busy. The manager gave 
me three tickets. I gave one to Jo and kept two. I won- 
dered — oh ! I wondered if dared to ask Miss Sophia to go with 
me to the circus. The thought brightened me up somewhat* 
The manager had been in for lunch and would not be back 
to supper; it was after five o’clock and the tables were all 
set. I went out into the garden and saw her. “ Miss So- 
phia,” I asked, “are you going to the circus?” “Why, cer- 
tainly I am,” she replied; “we are all going. We all got free 
tickets and are going to have a seat close to the ring.” That 
cut me off. I went back to the dining hall. Supper over, 
everybody got ready to go to the circus and I thought I’d stay 
at home. I sat down to eat my supper when everybody else 
had left the hall. I felt so lonesome and — “Mr. Baar,” 
called a sweet voice behind me, “mamma told me to ask if you 
want to go with us. Do go, please, I think it will just be 
fine.” We went. I actually sat by Miss Sophia, and the 
performance was splendid. We laughed at the clowns and 
drew close together when excited by the daring horseback and 
trapeze performances. Oh ! that was a glorious evening and 
the stars never shown so brightly as when I walked back to 
the hotel with Miss Sophia, arm in arm. 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


Ill 


On Thursday following I went over to San Francisco. Mr. 
Maier had sent me on some business to our grocery house and 
I had to go l)y several wharfs. Months had passed since I 
had been here. As I passed some sailing ships, I noticed, 
with her stern toward the street, a bark, and across her stern 
in large gilt letters, 1 read ; “Fetisch Hamburg.” I stopped, 
then went on the wharf and alongside the vessel. The men 
spoke German and I went aboard. The mate spoke that pe- 
culiar Hamburg dialect and I accosted him, but he was busy. 
I spoke to the doctor; he was an old man and had sailed 
many years in Hamburg ships. The captain came forward to 
look after some part of the freight and as he passed the gal- 
ley, the doctor said: “Captain, here’s a Hamburger.” The 
captain looked at me, stopped and asked my name. I told 
him that my father was a captain and had sailed all his life 
from Hamburg and in Hamburg ships. “Captain Baars,” he 
mused, ‘ yes, certainly, I have known him for more than 
twenty years. I knew when he married, but I have not seen 
or heard of him for the past two or three years. Young 
man,” he then said to me, “you would better go home with 
us. AVe are going straight to Hamburg.” “When do you 
leave?” I asked. “In about a week,” he said. I told him 
I would let him know by the next Sunday. I hurried back 
that evening and told Mr. Maier, and asked his advice. 
“W^ell,” he said, “1 would like to have you stay with us; I 
am well satisfied with your work, but perhaps you had better 
go home.” Then I had a talk with Mrs. Maier, who also ad- 
vised me to go. And Sophia? She really did not want me 
to go when she found that I was in earnest. “I wish you 
could go with me,” I said, with my heart all in a flutter. “I 
wish so, too,” she answered, “1 would like to live in Ger- 
many.” I told Captain Greif the next Sunday that I would 
go and he told me to come the next day, Monday, at three 
o’clock, and ship as deck boy, and come aboard Tuesday 
morning. 1 had been at Eureka Hotel six months, had spent 
l)ut little money, and gotten a good deal of “tip” at the hotel. 
I had twelve hundred dollars, all in gold. Mr. Maier gave 
me a money belt into which I put my money and buckled it 
around my waist, under my clothing. Tuesday morning 1 


112 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


said good-bye. Even some of our guests wished me well, but 
I thought only of Miss Sophia. I promised that I would write 
to her as soon as I reached Hamburg, and she also promised 
to write. I told her that I would come back, and I wanted to 
tell her some other things, but Mrs. Maier kept so close to us 
that I didn’t. I reached the Fetisch by nine o’clock. Two 
new seamen and another deck boy beside myself, had been 
shipped, the men whose vacancies we filled having run away. 
About ten o’clock, April the 9th, 1875, we left the wharf, 
were towed out into the harbor, and as we passed the Golden 
Gate and spread our canvas, my heart was thrilled with the 
thought that we were really homeward bound. 

The Fetisch was a bark of nine hundred tons, neat and 
trim, loaded with a general cargo. The crew consisted of 
Captain Greif, mate and second mate, carpenter, cook, eight 
seamen, two ordinary seamen, two deck boys and one cabin 
boy. The pilot left in the tow boat just outside of the gate. 
It was hard work to me, and there was much to do. To get the 
anchors inboard and lashed, stow away the hawsers and heavy 
ropes with which the ship had been moored to the wharf, get 
the sails and running gear all in working order and get the deck 
clear and clean was no small task, and all hands were kept 
on deck till near seven o’clock, when we went to supper — ex- 
cept the man at the wheel and on the lookout. At eight 
o’clock we were called aft and the mates picked their watches, 
each officer selecting one man alternately till all were picked. 
I found myself in the starboard (second mate’s) watch. 
“Port watch go below,” called out the second mate, who took 
charge of the deck. “Can you steer?” he asked me. I was 
just a little uneasy, but said “yes, sir.” “Go and relieve the 
man at the wheel, and Robert,” he said to the ordinary sea- 
man (next grade above deck boy), “you take the lookout.” 
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Robert as he went forward, and I went 
aft to take the wheel. “West-south- west,” said the man, 
who held on to the wheel till I answered “west-south-west.” 
The second mate looked at me just a little suspiciously and cau- 
tioned me; “don’t give her much wheel, three or four spokes 
is plenty.” “Aye, aye, sir,” I answered, but in spite of all my 
care she got away from me, and I turned and turned, and 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


113 


€ould not keep her steady. “Look out, what do you mean?” 
growled the second mate, and pushing me aside, he took the 
wheel himself and in a few minutes had the great vessel un- 
der the complete control of the small helm. “Now take her,” 
he said, “and you let her get off again and you’ll get away 
from here.” I held her now and steered the rest of the turn, 
two hours. Twelve o’clock came and our watch went below. 
My hands were soft and they burned and ached so that I could 
not sleep, for handling the heavy ropes had made them very 
«ore. In a few days, however, my hands got hard. The 
weather and the wind were fair, and we were running down 
the latitude. 

Harry, one of the new seamen and a native of Halifax, 
Nova Scotia, became my partner, rather by force of circum- 
stances than by choice. Harry was about twenty-five years 
of age and a fine seaman. He could not speak German and 
none in our watch, besides me, could speak a word of En- 
glish. Our second mate, even, could not give Harry his or- 
<iers, and I had to be their interpreter, so we were thrown 
together in our work. I did not like Harry much at first, I 
wanted Kobert to be my chum, but Harry could not stand 
Itobert and Robert had nothing to do with Harry. Gradually 
I learned to understand Harry better and before we were out 
a month we were warm friends, and thus I formed a friend- 
ship that continued several years. I did not know much 
about seamanship, but Harry helped me and I soon learned. 
I remember the first time I was sent aloft to furl the royal. 
A squall had suddenly come up, the night was dark, and it 
poured down rain. “Lay aloft, there, and furl that main 
royal,” called out the second mate to me, as he himself low- 
ered the halyards and Harry clewed up. “Harry, I’m scared,” 
I said. “All right. I’ll go with you;” but the second mate 
stopped him and said, “I don’t want two of you up there, 
what do you mean?” “You go back,” said Harry quickly as 
iie passed me running up the rigging. I did so, coiled up 
the gear on deck, and in a few minutes Harry came down 
again. When I went aft to take my turn at the wheel at four 
bells (2 A. M.), the second mate said: “You made a good, 
quick job of that royal. I thought you would not need any 


114 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


help.” I thought it was none of my business to inform him 
who furled that royal and so let it pass. When our watch 
came on deck again at eight o’clock in the morning, it was 
still squally, but all sails were set again. About nine o’clock 
another heavy puff of wind came along. “Take in the royals,’ 
shouted the second mate, and then called to me: “be alive 
and get up there.” There was now no help for it and I 
furled my first royal. It was hard work, but it was day and 
I could see. It took me longer than it did Harry, but the 
second mate (Boney, as Harry called him) was satisfied, at 
least he said nothing when I got down on deck again. 

Now my real sailor’s life commenced. Things went on bet- 
ter than I had expected. I was treated better. My father 
being known to the captain as well as to one of our seamen, 
who had made a voyage with him, gave me valuable prestige 
with the crew. Besides I had been regularly shipped and 
was in no way an intruder, as I had been on board the Black 
Eagle. There was good feeling between the officers and the 
men. We had “watch and watch,” that is, watches regularly 
succeeding each other, without being kept up or called out- 
If anything had to be done tkat required all hands, it was put 
off until eight bells when the watches changed and then done 
as quickly as possible, and the off watch sent below. Alto- 
gether, the Fetisch was a good ship. 

As we neared the equator, the wind became lighter and 
lighter and then ceased altogether. A calm under the equator 
is not an unusual occurrence. Our small sails were furled,, 
and the topsails, foresail and mainsail were clewed up, and 
the spanker, staysails and jibs hauled down. Not a breath of 
air stirred and the sun shed its scorching rays down upon us. 
The ship rolled heavily in the sluggish sea and as we lost our 
way the wheel was lashed. The watches were kept busy all 
day throwing water over the deck and sides, above the water 
line, to keep the pitch and calking from oozing out of the 
seams between the planking. The bright spirit, the songs 
and yarns in the forecastle, gave way to restlessness and 
grumbling. Chips, our carpenter and boss in the forecastle, 
was the chief growler. He could out-growl anybody I ever 
heard. He cursed the sun, the sea, the ship and all on board. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


115 - 


One day, Harry, an expert fisherman, caught a fine dolphin. 
It was a splendid fish and large enough for everybody on 
board to have a piece. Chips said it was not good to eat. 
When Harry, after sending a choice part to the cabin, came 
in with the rest nicely fried, he would not give chips a piece. 
Upon this, chips cursed him and called him mean and stingy. 
Then Harry, determining to please him, gave him a larger 
piece than any of the rest had. However, chips, set upon 
growling, cursed the fish for being full of bones. Yet chips 
was not the only growler. Sailors are restless creatures. 
They want to go, and keep going. “More days more dollars”^ 
was no comfort in a calm, and the average sailor will chew 
his quid or smoke his stump pipe with more relish in a heavy 
gale than in a dead calm. 

Three weeks we lay there, rolling heavily and helplessly, the 
great sails flapping against the mast, the running gear slacked 
up and kept us swigging all the time. The shrouds and stays 
were soft, and the tar dripped down on deck. Oh! a calm, 
a long calm under the equator is a most miserable calamity to 
a sailing vessel. With great delight we hailed the first breeze, 
which sprung up during the night. Most of the watch below, 
when they heard the sound of running ropes on deck, got up 
and helped to make sail. Scarcely were all sails set when the 
breeze was gone again; then it came from another direction, 
and so baffled nearly all the following day, but toward evening 
it set in steadily, and in two or three days we had caught the 
trade wind, and under full sail sped southward. While in the 
trade winds sailors have their best or worst times. The wind 
is steady from one direction and the ship needs but little at- 
tention, so this is a good time for overhauling all the blocks 
and gear, patching sails, making matting used for chafing 
gear, sanding and canvasing the decks, painting, etc. All 
this’ work is not hard, or need not be, and if the men have 
watch and watch, they generally see their happiest days. We 
had some good times during the dog watch, from six to eight 
p. M. We all gathered on the main hatch and had our grand 
concerts. The doctor played his loved accordion, to which 
chips beat his bass drum, made out of a flour barrel headed 
with cow hide. Harry improvised a tambourine out of a bar- 


116 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


rel hoop and a piece of sheep skin. He sang and danced 
well much to the delight of all. Then the yarns that were 
interspersed. The mate, chips and the doctor could tell the 
best yarns. Chips told mostly impossible ghost stories; the 
doctor old superstitious legends with a religious trend ; but 
the mate’s yarns were strongest and most in demand. Here 
is one of them. 

THE MATE SPINS A YARN. 

Doctor put his accordion tenderly in its box; chips put his 
drum up end ways and Harry, who sat up on the pin rail by 
the main mast, handed his tambourine to Emil, the cabin boy, 
who admired it very much. After taking a fresh quid and 
re-lighting the short pipes, all sat comfortably or else lay 
down as the mate begun : “ About fifteen years ago, I shipped 
in the schooner Auguste. It was my first voyage as matrose 
(able seaman). We had a good crew, and were bound for 
Montevideo with a general cargo. After we had been out a 
few days our doctor got sick. Great sores broke out all over 
him and he out-cursed any two men aboard. He had a dev- 
ilish look and we were all just a little afraid of him. Old 
man Dirk, the oldest man in the forecastle, said to me one 
night: ‘I’ll tell you, Davy Jones will be aboard before we get 
to Montevideo. Jimmy Squarefoot (the devil) is a-roasting 
doctor alive right now, that’s what’s making all them sores 
on him. And you mark my word, Davy Jones (death) will 
get him as soon as he is cooked enough.’ Old Dirk really 
seemed to believe what he said. It was in October when we 
left Hamburg; the weather was rough from the start, but we 
got through the channel all right and out into the Bay of Bis- 
cay. Then the wind hauled round to the north-west and we 
had some of the nastiest weather I ever saw. The schooner 
hove and pitched, and we lay to under close reefed mainsail 
and fore topsail. It was a Sunday morning after a fearful 
night when we found the doctor in the galley — dead. He lay 
on the floor and blood was spattered on the walls and over 
the stove, and it looked as if he had been fighting desperately. 
None of us dared to go to him at first, but the captain came 
forward and told us to get him out and bury him. The sec- 
ond mate got a piece of old sail cloth, we wrapped the doctor 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


117 


in it, tied it securely and put a piece of an old chain at his 
feet for a weight to sink him. It was blowing a living gale 
of wind. The sea was short and high and every time she 
plunged the sea would roll over the full length of our decks. 
‘Take him forward on the forecastle,’ said the skipper, ‘and 
lower him over the lee side.’ We got on the forecastle head, 
and waited for the captain to read the prayers. ‘Never 
mind,’ called he to us, ‘lower away, it’s too rough to have 
any prayers this morning.’ So we lowered him over the side; 
just as the ship’s head rose high on another wave, and as she 
plunged into the next one, we let the dead man slide over- 
board and we all ran aft. It was a gloomy Sunday. Boys,” 
said the mate as he relighted his pipe and we all gave a sigh 
of relief, “boys, the worst is yet to come. We ate cold 
victuals all day as nobody dared to go into the galley. On 
Monday morning, about four bells in the morning watch, the 
gale was still blowing and the sea rough as ever, when old Dirk 
rushed on deck undressed and shrieking as if he were crazy. 
We could not get any sense out of him and so went down into 
the forecastle to see if anything was the matter. The rest of 
the watch had been awakened by old Dirk’s shrieks, and as 
the mate and I reached the forecastle head we met the men 
(two of them, there being but three in each watch) coming 
up on deck. They looked as wild as Dirk and could not 
speak. Then we all got scared and old Dirk cried like a baby 
and begged us to get him a prayer book quick. When the 
captain came forward we timidly followed him and as we got 
down into the forecastle head, what should we see, pressed 
right against one of the small bull’s eye windows, right in old 
Dirk’s bunk, but the face of the dead doctor, mouth and eyes 
wide open. Boys” (here the mate paused a moment) “it 
was a horrible sight. We got up on the forecastle head and 
looked over the bow and there, tangled up in the jib sheets, 
hung the body of the doctor, the canvas being mostly torn off 
him. As the schooner was pitching heavily, it was no small 
task to get the dead doctor loose. Several men went out on 
the bowsprit and pulled the sheets up to them as we let them 
go on deck. They had to cut the ropes as some of them were 
tied in knots around the dead body. So we let the dead 


118 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


man a second time overboard, and we all breathed a sigh of 
relief as we saw him sink under the lee bow of the schooner. 
The captain, the mate, and two of us men were just getting 
up on the poop when the man at the wheel gave a yell and 
leaving the wheel, ran forward. I’ll be hanged if that dead 



THE DEAD DOCTOR. 


doctor did’nt jump over the lee stern right on the poop and 
lay there, all naked and torn half to pieces. Now the cap- 
tain himself got scared. Fortunately we were still hove to, 
and the schooner did’nt need much steering, or she might 
have gotten into the wind and we all have gone to the bot- 
tom. At last two of us ventured to go aft and throw the 
body overboard. We put him right over the stern and he 
came back no more.” 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


119 


CHAPTER XYI. 

ROUNDING CAPE HORN. 

* The weather was getting cold, and the days grew shorter as 
we approached Cape Horn, the dreaded “ sailors’ grave yard.” 
We could not have come here at a worse season of the year. 
It was the middle of June — mid-winter off Cape Horn. Cape 
pigeons and albatross in all their glory sailed around our mast 
heads. The cape pigeon is a bird about the size of our do- 
mestic pigeon. Their plumage is black, with wings and tail 
tipped with purest white. They are easily caught with a hook 
and line, and we caught quite a number; as soon as the}^ 
touched the deck they became perfectly helpless. Strange 
as it may seem, they cannot walk, and are utterly unable to fly 
up from solid footing. They lie on their side, flap their wings, 
kick and become as sea sick as any green passenger. They 
are not good to eat, but the sailors catch them to look at them, 
or perhaps, as some of the men did, to stuff and take home as 
curiosities. The albatross is also caught on a hook, but not 
as easily as the pigeon. We fished for them nearly every day, 
’til Harry at last hooked one, a beautiful bird. Some of the 
sailors did not like it much as they were superstitious about 
them. It was quite a task to haul in that bird, and even after 
we had it on the poop, it kicked and scratched about the deck 
and struck with its wings with a force that would have knocked 
a man down ; for, like the cape pigeon and most of the real 
sea birds, it could neither walk nor stand up. The captain 
shot it. It measured something over twelve feet from tip 
to tip and nearly four feet from its large beak to the end of its 
tail. Harry gave the wings to the captain and kept the head, 
out of which he made a tobacco bag. 

The wind changed now, further to the south and we smelled 
the first Cape Horn weather. The sun rose at nine o’clock in 
the morning and set again soon after three in the evening, still 
I it turned colder and still the days grew shorter. The wind 
hauled now to the south-west and set in to blowing a steady 


120 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


gale straight against our course. We lay by the wind under 
close reefed top-sails on the port tack and so drove almost 
due south. Still it grew colder and the sea ran mountain 
high. It was cloudy and for days we did not see the sun and 
were almost in constant darkness. Then came a snow storm 
which lasted three days. Everything aloft and about the deck 
that was out of the water was covered with snow and ice. 
The hands and feet of most of the men were badly frost bit- 
ten, still the wind stayed in the south-west and blew like fury. 
On Sunday mDrning, after we had been up nearly all night 
trying to take in the fore top-sail, the captain called us all aft. 
“Men,” said he, “here’s a keg of rum. You have not had 
anything warm to eat for a week. Help yourselves, don’t 
drink too much, but you had better all drink some. I think 
it will help you. Anything else you want, say so and if it i& 
aboard the Fetisch you shall have it.” He meant what he 
said. At dinner time the mate brought up some canned beef 
and some cabin crackers. The doctor, with the aid of several 
men, had tried his best to make some coffee, but to have a 
fire in any part of the ship, with such a high sea, was simply 
impossible. So we ate our frozen beef and crackers and 
drank rum. 

Another week passed and we still lay at the mercy of the 
wind and the raging sea. We were a pitiable sight. JSot only 
my feet were frost bitten so that I could not get off my sea 
boots, but even my limbs were swollen to my waist. Several 
of the men, especially poor Tom, the deck boy of the port 
watch, had their faces badly bitten. Tom suffered intensely. 
At last, after two weeks, the wind changed to the south and 
though it turned several degrees colder, yet it seemed warmer 
as the wind abated. We could now have a fire in the galley 
and get some warm food, which did us great good. But oh I 
it was so cold. Our bunks and bedding were wet through 
and as we lay down, the water that was not frozen, would 
squeeze out of the mattress and blankets. I hoped so much 
to see the cape but we did not get near enough to it and I 
was disappointed. Still the days were short. The sun rose 
at ten o’clock and set at two in the afternoon. Oh! the 
dreary, lonesome nights off Cape Horn, the continued thick 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


121 


darkness, the moaning of the winds with the shrieking of the 
albatross’ and the cape pigeons and the rushing of the great 
waves which often entirely submerged our ship, were simply 
awful. How much more awful will be that endless night amid 
the howls of the demons and the moans of the lost! Oh! 
God, save us from that eternal night, for Jesus’ sake, save us. 

The wind was fair now and we steered due north for some 
days, then north-west and slowly the days grew a little long- 
er, but still it remained freezing cold. Sailors are not allowed 
fire to warm by, as it would do more harm than good. It is 
best not to go near any fire at all, yet I doubted this old theory 
and would gladly have hovered, even for a moment, over some 
good stove or fireside. 

As we were about abreast of Patagonia, we sighted an 
English ship. She had lost her fore and main top masts and 
her jib boom. She was going in the same direction as our- 
selves and as we signaled her we learned that she was from 
Valparaiso bound for Liverpool. Perhaps they had had a 
harder time than we but they could not have suffered more. 

Fortunately we caught the south-east trade winds, unusu- 
ally far south, about 48® latitude. We spread every rag that 
she could carry and so plunged ahead and homeward. The 
weather w^as pleasant as we ran down the latitude and we al- 
most wished that the captain would shorten sail and give us a 
few days’ rest while we w^ere yet in cool weather, so as to cure 
up our frost bitten limbs before reaching warmer latitudes. 
My feet w^ere still much swollen and the skin had burst open 
at different places, leaving several raw sores which were very 
painful. Nearly all the men had similar sores on feet, legs, 
arms and shoulders, and Tom’s face was in a fearful condition. 
The captain and the mates Avere no better off than we. Still 
Ave had lost much time and were anxious to get to Hamburg, 
certainly none more anxious than I, so the majority favored 
going ahead. The captain hoped that Ave Avould not be delayed 
in crossing the line and so Avould soon be in cool weather 
again. The Avind and Aveather were simply fine, and having 
noAV set our fore and main top gallant and top mast studding 
sails, Ave made from fourteen to sixteen knots straight along. 
In thirteen days from the time Ave caught the trade Avind, AA^e 


122 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


crossed the equator; hence, in twenty days, we had come from 
the coldest into the hottest part of the earth. We rejoiced at 
thus having crossed the dreaded equator, dreaded especially 
on account of our frost-bitten condition, but were disappointed 
after all. In latitude between 4^ and 5^, north, the wind 
again left us and a dead calm fell upon us, alone and helpless. 
The hot sun threatened to burn us alive, and for a week or 
more, we suffered intensely. Sore eyes became an epidemic 
on board, starting with poor, unfortunate Tom. We feared 
that he and two other men, Knute, a Dane and growling Chips 
would go blind. Sailors may have their faults, some may be 
actually wicked, but they are not all so, and even the few 
black sheep among them are not so bad as they appear to the 
landsman. But when it comes to suffering or sickness, take 
sailors, as a class, and you will not find hearts more easily 
touched or more tenderly in sympathy and hands more kind 
or more ready to do all that can be done, than are the hearts 
and hands of the shipmates. Our second mate, Harry and 
Johann, who once sailed with my father, together with Rob- 
ert, the ordinary seaman of the starboard watch, worked al- 
most night and day for their .suffering shipmates, as they 
themselves had been comparatively unhurt while rounding 
the cape. Three or four others who could help some, did 
what they could. For eight or ten days there was but little 
to be done on deck. The sails were clewed up and hauled 
down, the whe’el lashed and about all that had to be done was 
wetting down the deck every two hours. Thus the men who 
suffered most received all the attention and comforts that the 
Fetisch afforded. We all got well. The calm still prevailed 
and we begun our final task, that of scraping down the masts 
and spars, painting and polishing, and sand and canvassing. 
It took us two weeks, less time than we had thought. The 
captain promised us a good time when we should run up the 
north-east trade winds; so all hands worked with a good will, 
voluntarily keeping up the forenoon and afternoon watches. 

We were not quite through when the first breeze fanned us 
lightly. For two or three days the wind bafiled about and 
then the trade wind set in. How we rejoiced and how we 
worked to finish our cleaning up. The mate was still not 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


123 


well and did not get entirely well during the voyage. He 
seemed internally affected by the cold weather. He had won 
all of us by his kindness and we thought more of him now 
than even of the captain. The second mate, too, had won 
our confidence and esteem, though heretofore he had been 
very unpopular, but his sympathy for the sufferers and his 
untiring energy in helping had drawn us all closer to him. 
After all, trouble, privation and suffering bring a share of 
blessings with them. They bring men together and draw out 
the better side of humanity. 

Again we resumed our dog watch entertainments. The doc- 
tor, who had worked as nobly as any man on board, brought 
out his accordion, chips tuned up his drum, Harry, his tam- 
bourine being lost overboard off Cape Horn, took a tin pan 
that had seen its best days and was now of no other use, and 
so our band was reorganized. Even the mate hobbled down 
on the main deck and brightened up the occasions with his 
yarns. Thus we left the Gulf Stream, crossed the Bay of Bis- 
cay, and one night, about the last of August, sighted Lunday 
Islands off the coast of England. How glad I was and what 
memories of home and the past rushed through my mind as 
we entered the English Channel. 

Early next morning great ocean steamers like the Borussia, 
and great sailing ships either outward bound, or like ourselves, 
coming home after a long, tedious voyage, were visible on all 
sides, also small steamers and tow boats, coasting schooners, 
colliers, fishing smacks and even small sail boats. Some of 
them came alongside and asked if we had any letters or tele- 
grams to send ashore. The captain sent a telegram to Ham- 
burg, and it would be in the Hamburg morning papers next 
day, “bark Fetisch, from San Francisco bound for Hamburg, 
in the English Channel.” Would Father read it? Would he 
be at home? Oh! were mother and sister expecting me? I 
had written a short letter just the day before we sailed from 
San Francisco, stating that I was coming home, but now as I 
thought of it, I doubted just a little as to whether I had 
named the ship in which I was coming. But even if I did not, 
what a happy surprise it would be, and how happy I was in 
the anticipation. 


124 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


We shortened sail somewhat, taking in our royals, flying jib 
and upper staysails. The wind was from the east and all day 
long we steered our way among thousands of vessels of all 
kinds. Towards evening we took in our top-gallant sails and 
mainsail so as to go slower, as the darkness increased the dan- 
ger of collision. Then it grew dark. The wind hauled to the 
north-east, a misty rain set in, and before morning a heavy 
fog settled down upon us and all around. We tacked and 
stood for the coast of France, there being less traffic there 
than on the coast of England. Three times we narrowly es- 
caped collision with other vessels. What anxiety, what rest- 
lessness takes possession of seamen when thus enveloped in a 
heavy fog, much more so in the Channel, where so many ves- 
sels are constantly plying in every direction. We heard of 
several collisions from the pilot whom the captain had en- 
gaged after the fog fell. 

For ten days we lay hove to, afraid to venture in any direc- 
tion, till at last it cleared up as quickly as the fog had fallen. 
There was new life and new hope. We set our topsails, main- 
sail and top-gallant sails again, but the wind was still from 
the north and so we had to beat. That is slow work and 
made much slower by the immense number of vessels around 
us, for we frequently had to keep off so as to safely pass some 
other ship. Several more days passed and we made but little 
headway; then the wind changed again, slowly moving from 
nearly due north to south-west. Nothing could have suited 
us better. So“after two weeks of hard work and for the most 
part wet and disagreeable weather, we passed Dover and Cal- 
ais. Here^the channel pilot left us, and now under full sail, 
we entered the North Sea, the most beautiful and yet perhaps 
the most treacherous of all seas, abounding in sand banks^ 
among which the deep channels are constantly changing. We 
kept close under the coast of Holland. Thousands of fishing 
smacks surrounded us. We bought some fish from one of 
them, paying with salt pork. The coast is dotted with fisher 
villages. The water near the land is a light green. Thus the 
villages with their whitewashed and red tiled houses, the del- 
icate green tint of the water, and the thousands of graceful 
little fishing crafts make^this coast the most beautiful ocean 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


125 


view I ever saw. The wind stayed with us and we hoped to 
reach Hamburg in two or three days. 

It was my morning watch below, when about six o’clock I 
heard the men talking, and as they talked about Heligoland, 
I could sleep no more. I could just see a dim light over our 
port bow. It was the Heligoland lighthouse. The morning 
was cloudy, but as the day brightened we could soon see the 
outlines of the brave little Island, looking like a man’s head 
raised up above the water. Now the sea pilot came aboard, 
the real German “Lootse,” a sturdy man with a look of 
daring in his very eye. What a book full of thrilling events 
would be the story of that man’s life, and not only of that 
man, but many of his fellow pilots. No braver, nobler, truer 
men can be found on land or sea than our pilots, who show 
.us the way, guide us among reefs and sand banks, and see 
us safely anchored in the harbor. 

We passed the light-ships, the great delight of some of my 
boyhood days. How long ago those days seem to be! Now. 
we breasted Cuxhaven with its majestic lighthouse, towering 
high above the rock on which it is built, and shedding its rays 
twenty or thirty miles out upon the North Sea. Here the sea 
pilot left and the river pilot took charge. The wind was fair, 
and- so we refused the numerous tow boats that offered to pull 
us up the river. 

Only thirty-six miles from Hamburg now. More than once 
Harry had to call my attention to my work. I seemed in a 
dream. That strange dream I had on board the Black Eagle, 
in which I saw father drowning, filled me with vague appre- 
hension. I told Harry about it. “ Why, man,” he said laugh- 
ingly, “that is a sign of good luck. Dreams always mean the 
opposite. If you dream something that makes you sad, then 
something will happen to make you glad.” I thought, too, 
that perhaps my apprehensions were without foundation, and 
I thought of the joy, the gladness of to-morrow. At Gluck- 
stadt the river became somewhat narrower; the wind, too, 
changed slightly, and this time we were glad, because a head 
wind now meant that we would have to get a tow boat, and 
the rest of the voyage would be easy. The captain engaged a 
tug, gave her our hawser and she “tugged” away with us. 


126 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


Now we furled those sails for the last time. Merrily the 
boys sang out as we pulled up the bunt of the foresail and 
mainsail on top of the yard. The last sail was furled. Now 
the deck had to be cleared. We washed her down without 
slighting any corners, laid up all running gear in shipshape 
order, and were nearly through with clearing and cleaning^ 
when we passed Blankenese, a beautiful suburb some ten 
miles below Hamburg. Here the captain had his home. As 
we passed we saw a flag hoisted near a pretty little cottage in 
response to our signal. They had received the telegram, and 
had been on a daily look out. As the captain looked at that 
flag he waved his hat, a broad, happy smile lit up his face> 
while two great tear drops rolled down his cheeks. Home, 
sweet home ! 

An hour later the Fetisch lay safely moored near the St. 
Paul landing. Again we cleared the decks and put away all 
tools and extra gear that had been used in mooring. Then 
we knocked off, and about five o’clock September 5th, 1875, 
1 left the Fetisch and set my foot on the solid ground in the 
city of my fathers, the home of my childhood. 


CHAPTEK XVII. 

HOME ? 

I left Harry and the rest of our shipmates at the Seamen’s 
Home and went on alone. I walked along the same old 
streets. Every stone in the pavements was familiar. How 
often had I walked that way from home to the harbor, and 
back home again. I took the same streets through which I 
used to walk. How familiar and yet how new everything 
looked, and how glad I was as I neared the street where I 
used to play soldiers with the boys. I turned the last corner. 
I could see the house. It had been recently repainted, other- 
wise it was the same old four-story, brick building. I stopped 
a moment across the street opposite the house, then walked 


THE STORY' OF THE SEAS. 


127 


quickly across, up the steps, rang the bell, as the hall door 
was locked, and — a stranger met me, looked at me rather in- 
differently and asked: “What do you want?” My clothing 
was not new, the long voyage had left me no Sunday clothes, 
and I felt very much embarrassed as 1 faltered: “Does Cap- 
tain Baars live here?” Captain Baars? Y — yes,” he said, 
hesitatingly, then left me standing alone — but a moment later 
mother’s arms were clasped about me. Everything in the 
house was changed, the furniture was mostly new. and mother 
looked at me so strangely. Then sister came in, noYv in a 
long, black dress, as if in mourning. “Mother,” I said, 
“something is wrong. Where is father? Is he dead? oh! is 
he dead?” Mother and sister both burst into tears. “Yes,” 
said mother, “your papa is dead. He was not well when you 
left, never got better, and after lingering for months, God 
took him and we buried him in St. James’ Cemetery. 

My father! oh, my father! could I have but known this, I 
would never have left you. My father, the ideal of all I ever 
hoped to be — of all I ever hoped to do. My dream had been 
reality. His spirit came and “through a glass, darkly,” tried 
to make me understand that he was sailing on his last voyage 
and wished to bid me his last, long farewell. 

I will not burden my reader with the details of the event 
around Yvhich are gathered the saddest memories of my life. 
The new furniture, the new pictures were not without their 
meaning; only six weeks before my arrival there had been a 
wedding in the house, and — my mother was no longer Mrs. 
Baars, but was now Mrs. Bauermeister. Mother told me he 
was an exceedingly good man, her life had been so lonely, 
sister having been away at school for more than a year — I in- 
terrupted her in her explanations; poor, dear mother — yes, I 
was glad that she had married again, but my heart was too 
full of sadness and disappointment to give any thought to 
these things. The sun of my life had set forever and I was 
left alone, without purpose and without hope. 

The next morning we went to the cemetery — mother, sister 
and I. As we reached the grave we sat down on the grass 
beside it. It was kept neat and clean. A little rosebush 
seemed to have kept one flower as a greeting for me, and shed 


128 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


petals as I touched it; then I could contain myself no longer, 
laid down on the grass and wept and gave vent to the grief 
that had been pent up since my arrival. It was a relief. 
When I arose mother and sister had walked a little distance 
from the grave and sat on a rustic seat under a tree. I stood 
up, wiped my eyes, and it seemed as if the spirit of the de- 
parted loved one hovered near me and whispered: “Son, do 
your duty.” As we walked slowly home, I asked about home 
affairs and we talked about many things that had happened 
since I left home. That evening I went to the Seamen’s 
Home. Harry was just about to go out with five or six of our 
Fetisch shipmates. They were glad to see me and met me with 
a hearty welcome. They had been drinking and were going 
out for a gay time. I did not wish to burden them with my 
sadness and was just about to leave them when Harry fol- 
lowed me. “Old boy,” he said, “what’s the matter? Some- 
thing has gone wrong. You look like a graveyard, man. 
Has anything happened?” We walked a little distance from 
the building, sat down on the grass, under the shade of a tree 
and I told Harry all my story. Dear, noble Harry — he went 
and told the boys — who still waited for him — to go, and then 
he came back and stayed with me. I took Harry home with 
me, he sacrificed his pleasure in all the gaiety of a “homeward 
bounder,” comforted me as no else could have comforted me 
just then, and helped me upward out of the depths of gloom 
into which I had been so suddenly plunged. 

The next day we moved our baggage — mine, too, having 
been left in the Seamen’s Home — and Harry shared the little 
room in which I had spent so much of my happy childhood. 
How mysterious are God’s dealings with us. I did not know 
Him then as I do now, would that I had; for the Christian 
finds the sweetest solace only after passing through the dark- 
est trials. 

My money? It was still in that same belt which Mr. Maier 
had given me. I kept two hundred dollars and gave one 
thousand to my sister; poor dear sister, she, too, was left 
alone as well as I. I appreciated the kind consideration of 
my step-father. It was not until the third day after my ar- 
rival that he came home and met me, having kindly remained 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


129 


away until I should overcome, to some extent, my severe 
shock. He had a good position with the Hamburg Gas Co. 
He had been a widower without children, and he and mother 
seemed happy. I learned to esteem him very highly before I 
left. 

How quickly we are forgotten — two and a half years had 
brought about many changes.* I was now not only a stranger 
in my native city, but under the very roof where I had been 
born and reared. Our neighbors remembered me, but that 
was all. Things are different in a city from what they are in 
the country. Of the many school companions and playmates 
but few remained; nearly all had gone. Some apprenticed 
to some trade, some in business, a few at the university, sev- 
eral had died — all gone. And what about Leta, that little 
sweetheart of mine? I saw her, but she, too, had changed, 
and instead of a romping, playful child, 1 found a young lady 
in long dresses. We had some long talks. She, too, was in 
mourning. There had been sadness in her family circle ; much 
sadder than my own sorrow. I may tell, at some other time, 
the history of this family. Only one friend of my boyhood 
remained, Carl Shultz. He still lived near us, a good, noble 
boy. He was in a large dry goods store and was going to be 
a merchant. 

After a week, the saddest week of my life, Harry and I 
one morning walked along the front of the harbor and as we 
passed by the English shipping office, Harry met several men 
whom he knew, as he had met them at the Seamen’s Home. 
^‘Say, Harry,’* called one of them, “come and ship with us, 
here’s a fine Scotch bark going to Glasgow, by the run. Come 
on,” they urged, “we’ll get to Glasgow in eight or ten days, 
Rnd we can talk to folks there, I am tired of German.” 
^‘Fred/’ said Harry to me, “let’s go; it will be better for you 
to be away from here, and you will find new life and new 
hopes. Come on, what do you say?” Not caring much what 
I did, we went in and signed the articles in the bark Ring 
Dove, bound for Glasgow, by the run (shipping only for the 
trip from Hamburg to Glasgow and paying fifteen dollars). 

Great, indeed, was the disappointment when that evening 
I told mother that I had shipped and would leave home again 


130 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


in two days. My step-father — no, I called him “Father,” un- 
natural as it seemed, for 1 thought it was right, and I am now 
glad that I did, for as the years have gone by since then I have 
learned to love and respect him, not only for mother’s sake, 
but for his own as well — father was really distressed. “ Stay 
at home,” he urged. “ I can get you a good paying position 
with the Gas Co., right in my own office. Do not distress us 
by going to sea again.” It was in vain; more now than ever 
before did I want to be a seaman. Even Harry, who had 
stayed with us in the house, thought that may be after all I 
had better stay at home, but I did not change my purpose. 
New hopes and new plans were dawning, and they were all 
on the ocean. I could not go with my dear father, but I 
could follow in his footsteps and that was to me the noblest 
thing to be done. So on a Wednesday morning, about the 
17th or the 18th of September, once more my father, my 
mother and sister went with me to the wharf, but how differ- 
ent was this second departure. Not on the great steamship 
landing, but on a small wharf, a boat landing. Nobody on 
the wharf seemed to know or care for an3’body on board the 
foreign ship, and the only people interested in our leaving^ 
was the little group that had come with Harry and myself. 
A last, long embrace from my mother — she seemed dearer to 
me now than ever, an affectionate embrace from sister and a 
warm grasp of the hand from father, as he said with tears in 
his eyes and trembling lips: “Come back to us. I’ll be your 
father indeed, if you’ll let me, and our home is as much your 
home as it has ever been.” I knew he meant what he said,, 
but my future was on the sea and my life must be like that of 
my sainted father. So we went aboard and at ten o’clock the 
ropes were cast loose, the towboat pulled us through several 
long rows of ships, then out into the main channel of the 
river Elbe and down stream with the tide; we passed St. 
Pauls and left the sainted dead, the loved ones that were liv- 
ing and the home of my childhood — perhaps forever. 

The Ring Dove was about the size of the Fetisch, perhaps 
a little heavier; loaded just enough with salt to give her good 
ballast. The weather was fine but cool, the sun shone bright- 
ly and the trees were beginning to put on their first autumn 


THE STORY OE TPIE SEAS. 


131 


tints. We were towed all the way down the river, and just 
about sundown we entered the North Sea. Again we passed 
those interesting light-ships one by one. On the last one, 
which sent a little boat to us, we left our sea pilot. The new 
moon greeted us as we sailed by Heligoland; then, changing 
our course to north-noith-east, and with all sails set and a fair 
wind we headed for the northern coast of Scotland. This 
coast abounded in magnificent scenery. Craggy rocks and 
high clilfs protruding out into the sea, leaving great caverns 
here and there between them, with nowand then a small har- 
bor, where fishing smacks and other vessels lay at anchor. 

Then we went through Pentland Firth, between the Orkney 
Islands and the north of Scotland. After passing through 
the Firth we anchored in a small harbor, Farr Kirk — Captain 
Bruce’s birth place, and a most picturesque Scotch fishing 
village. Here we spent a delightful Sunday. In the morning 
we all went to the quaint old Scotch kirk, but the clergyman, 
attired in a black gown and a large white collar, spoke in 
Gaelic and we could not understand him. After their simple 
but devotional service, the minister came and shook hands 
with all of us. We had dinner in the inn at the invitation of 
Captain Bruce and we spent a most pleasant day with the 
people who came to see us. It was no small event for Farr 
Kirk to have a “great booger of a ship” anchored in her har- 
bor. Many people came aboard late in the evening, after we 
had all returned, and closely inspected our ship from stem to 
stern and from the mast head to the salt in the hold. Mon- 
day morning we weighed anchor, and amid the cheers of the 
villagers we sailed away. Now came the most interesting 
passage I ever made. Up through the Minch, with the Heb- 
rides on our right and the mainland on our left. Not only 
were we interested by the great rocks towering high above 
our masts, with at times scarcely more than a ship’s length 
between us, by the wild scenery that brought readily to mind 
the many thrilling legends and stories of old Scotland and her 
Scottish’ Chiefs, but especially by the marvelous seamanship 
of our captain in handling so large a vessel, dependent en- 
tirely on her sails for motion and control, in so small a quan- 
tity of water. The wind staid in the north and though it was 


132 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


cold during: the nights yet the days were very pleasant; the 
sun shone brightly and we had just enough of seaway to keep 
us remembering that we were on the water. As we passed 
Staffa Island we were too far o:ff to have a good view of the 
famous Fingal’s Cave, but we could faintly see the great ba- 
saltic columns and arches. This called forth a story from 
the mate, which always comes into my mind at the mention of 
Fingal’s Cave. The mate was an old man and an enthusiastic 
lover of his country and its legends. The story, as I remem- 
ber it, is about as follows : 

In the days of the highland chiefs, a party belonging to one 
of the most powerful clans went out in a boat on a voyage of 
adventure. A heavy storm overtook them and their boat was 
wrecked on this island. They did not know where they were. 
However, they climbed up the rocks, where they caught the 
first glimpse of the inhabitants and became so frightened for 
fear they would be killed, that they rushed down again toward 
the sea. But the inhabitants were kindly disposed, called 
them back and promised that no harm should befall them. 
Then they ventured up the rocks and cliffs until they reached 
a small plateau, on which stood the village of the island clan. 
The strangers were treated kindly, were given food, drink 
and clothing, and were soon restored from all the injuries 
they had received in the wreck. Then these Highlanders 
grew bold and overbearing. They insulted the women, asked 
for everything that was valuable, and even attempted to take 
things by force. At last tlife Islanders, unable longer to en- 
dure such conduct, drove them down to the sea, gave them a 
small boat without oars or sails, and pushed them out into 
the sea. The Highlanders had to propel their boat with their 
hands, but after much danger and hard work they reached 
the mainland and returned to their own clan. When they 
had told their story, made perhaps much worse than it really 
was, the chief of the clan and the people as well, became an- 
gry, made up a strong party, and in strong boats heavily 
armed, went to the island. As the islanders saw them com- 
ing, they all, men, women and children, hid in the great cave 
and the Highlanders were unable to find them. They were 
about to sail away in great (jisappointment, when, unfortu- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


183 


nately, one of the men from the cave came out to see if the 
enemy was gone and was discovered. Forgetting the danger 
to the rest and thinking only of his own safety, he ran back 
to the cave and then all were discovered. Now the High- 
landers brought their boats to the mouth of the cave, but 
were afraid to enter, so they piled up a great body of timber 
a little way in the cave and set fire to it. They kept up the 
fire for several days and nights and all the islanders were 
killed by the smoke and heat. And unto this day almost the 
whole cave is paved with human skulls and bones. 

On Wednesday morning, just two weeks after leaving Ham- 
burg, we entered the Clyde, sailed up as far as Grenoch, 
then took a tugboat — or rather a tugboat took us — and 
steamed up to Glasgow. We were too much interested in 
getting to Glasgow to pay any attention to the old historic 
castles, of which we now and then caught a glimpse. About 
sundown we were safely moored in one of the great docks of 
Glasgow. Harry had been here before, and on his recom- 
mendation all hands went on shore and pub up at the Sailors’ 
Boarding House, kept by “Mother Murphy.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE OLD CRITTER. 

Glasgow has perhaps but little interest for the average 
sailor, on account of its quietude, its strict laws, strictly en- 
forced, its lack of dance houses and beer gardens; still, there 
are many places where the law is more or less evaded, and 
where Jack Tar can spend as much money as he wants to. 

Harry and I had a quiet time. We had enough money to 
spend a month here, and had planned to do so. We visited 
the famous old cathedral that had outlived the “ destruction 
and fanaticism of the Reformation,” a grand old structure 
with its numerous columns, its hundred and fifty windows, its 
quaint, massive architecture and venerable appearance— all 


134 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


combined to make it one of the sights of Glasgow. All the 
streets run in perfect squares, but are not as clean as they 
might be. Here, too, we heard the story, so oft repeated, 
about the stranger who asked a bopt-black; “Say, sonny, 
does it always rain here?” to which the boy replied: “Naw, 
sir; sometimes it snows.” During our stay of five weeks we 
had but few bright days. The University and the Peniten- 
tiary are perhaps the two costliest buildings in Glasgow. 

Walking along one of the streets near the docks, we were 
stopped one afternoon by a pleasant looking gentleman who 
said: “ Hold on, young men, don’t you wan’t to rest awhile? 
Come in; we have a nice little hall here, and also some young 
people who will sing some sweet songs for you. Come in a 
little while, won’t you? it costs you nothing, and I want to 
talk to you.” We had been thus accosted in the streets be- 
fore but for bad purposes. But this man neither looked nor 
talked like a shark, and so we followed him. We entered a 
neat but plain hall seated with chairs, and having at the end 
a little rostrum upon which was an organ, a little table, and 
also a number of young people sitting back of the organ. 
There were but few people in the room and they were either 
reading or talking. The gentleman who had asked us to 
come in led the way near the front, and sat down by us. He 
asked our names, gave us each a song book: “Gospel Hymns 
combined,” the first copy I ever saw, then went upon the 
the rostrum. A lady took her seat at the organ and they sang 
the first gospel hymn I ever heard. They sang: 

“Safe in the arms of Jesus, 

Safe on His gentle breast, 

There, by His love o’er shaded, 

Sweetly my soul shall rest. 

Hark, ’tis the voice of angels, 

Borne, in a song to me. 

Over the fields of glory, 

Over the jasper sea. 

Safe in the arms of Jesus, 

Safe from corroding care. 

Safe from the world’s temptations. 

Sin can not harm me there. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


135 


Free from the blight of sorrow, 

Free from my doubts and fears, 

Only a few more trials, 

Only a few more tears. 

Jesus, my heart’s dear refuge, 

Jesus has died for me. 

Firm on the Rock of Ages 
Ever my trust shall be. 

Here let me wait with patience. 

Wait till the night is o’er. 

Wait till I see the morning 
Break on the golden shore.” ' 

No song ever carried a message more directly to any heart 
than did that song to mine. The minister gave us both one 
of those song books. We offered to pay for them but he 
would accept no money. This was the seamen’s Bethel, sup- 
ported by some of the churches of Glasgow. Harry and I 
went there often, after this pleasant introduction. There 
was also a reading room connected with the Bethel, containing 
books, magazines, newspapers and free writing material. 
Here, I wrote a letter home and also a long letter to Miss 
Sophia Maier. 

“Harry,” I said one morning, “let’s take a long voyage.” 
We were just then passing some of the largest ships I had ever 
seen. I admired especially, the Glasgow iron ships. “All 
right,” replied Harry, “that’s just what I want. Let’s go to 
the East Indies in one of these Scotchmen. They say they 
treat the men well except that they keep you mostly on close 
rations and feed you mainly on burgoo (oatmeal).” “Well,” 
I said, “that’s as good as yellow soup (English peas).” We 
were getting restless, though we had been here only nine or 
ten days. When we got back to our boarding house, where 
we had spent but little time so far, we begun to inquire about 
the shipping news and Mother Murphy told us that the Loch 
Long would ship in a few days and was bound for the Indies. 

Mother Murphy was a remarkable woman, Irish by birth, 
but had spent most of her life in Grenoch and Glasgow, Her 
husband, who had been a sailor, had died years ago. She 
had two children, Patsy, about seventeen years old and Dora, 


136 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


about twenty. Patsy worked in a grocery store and Dora 
helped in the house. Mother Murphy was kind and gentle to 
the “byes,” but when any of them became unruly, she could 
manage the roughest of them — knock him down and put him 
out if necessary — or hold him while Dora called a bobby (po- 
liceman). She had a way of calling her boarders by their 
birthplaces iustead of their names, and so called Harry Hali- 
fax, and me Hamburg. Mother Murphy enjoyed a kind of 
prestige among the sailors’ boarding houses, and she had her 
fair share of the shipping. The Loch Long carried twenty- 
four seamen and four ordinaries (in Scotch and English ships 
boys are not shipped but apprenticed, usually for a term of 
four years). Mother Murphy was to furnish six of this crew. 
She tried to keep Harry and me from going, but as we were 
anxious, she consented. So on Friday afternoon we shipped. 
I shipped as ordinary seaman and Harry, of course, as seaman. 
We were to come aboard next day by ten o’clock in the fore- 
noon. 

Old Jack, one of the odd characters at the boarding house, 
seventy-two years old, declared that we would have bad luck. 
“Never ship on Friday,” he said solemnly, “nor leave port on 
Saturday. You’ll have bad luck sure.” We paid little atten- 
tion, however, to old Jack’s admonitions, although Harry was 
nearly sick. He had not been well for several days, but he 
said, “As soon as we get out to sea, the fresh air will set me 
up all right.” That night Harry got worse, his fever rose 
very high and I asked Patsy to get a doctor. Mother Murphy 
got up and when the doctor came, she urged that Harry be 
sent, at once, to the hospital, but I protested and promised 
to pay all extra costs and so she consented for him to stay. 
The doctor said that he was not seriously ill, but would be un- 
able to leave his bed for perhaps, a week or more. 

The next morning, leaving old Jack to care for Harry, I 
went down to the wharf and on board the East Indiaman, a 
grand ship and I wanted to go so bad; but I could not and 
would not now leave Harry. The captain was not on board 
and so I told the mate about Harry’s illness. He did not seem 
to believe me at first and turned away from me v ith the short 
reply, “You will have to come on board now, sick or well.’^ 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


137 


However, as I insisted on the truth of my statement and told 
him that the doctor said Harry had to remain in bed for a 
week or more, he relented, but said that I had to come. I 
then pleaded with him; told him that Harry and I were old 
shipmates; that he had stood by me when I was in trouble and 
I could not leave him all alone. “Well,” he finally said, “go 
along with you.” 

Hastening back to the boarding house, I met the crew that 
had shipped. They came along, singing as they walked, and 
carrying bottles and bundles in their hands, although their 
baggage was on a wagon. Most of them were more or less 
drunk and even the bobby looked at them with a smile and 
let them sing; for he knew it would be a long time before they 
would have any more liberty. 

When 1 came back I told Mother Murphy that I had seen 
the mate and would remain with Harry. She at once sent 
two old boarders to take our places and they were duly 
shipped and hurried off. Harry was unconscious, had been 
so since about midnight. The doctor came twice a day and 
for six or seven days and nights Harry was very sick, then 
his fever left him gradually, and on the following Friday the 
doctor told us he would not come back unless we sent for 
him. I paid him six pounds ($30.00) and still had about a 
hundred and fifty dollars left: so we were by no means hard 
up. This surprised Mother Murphy and she “was so glad we 
had not gone on the big ship where the poor laddie would 
have died, sure.” 

Just two weeks after the ship left Glasgow we received the 
shocking news that the ship and all hands were lost. No in- 
cident ever made so deep and lasting an impression on me as 
did that. How well I remembered the mate. He was stern and 
commanding, but not unkind when I spoke to him. bix of 
the seamen were from our house, two of them having occu- 
pied the room with us before Harry got sick. These two 
were Norwegians, young men, good fellows, and full of life 
and hope, and seemed to have had good homes. These two 
young men were uppermost in my mind when I thought of 
the thirty or forty men that had made up the ship’s crew- 
lost, all lost! Men of different nations, from different cour- 


138 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


tries, some Germans, several Swedes, two Frenchmen, but 
most of them Scotch, English and Irish. Who would bring 
the last sad tidings to the native homes of these men? Or 
would their loved ones watch and wait for months — for years? 
In most cases, perhaps, the ship owners, the shipping officers, 
or even the boarding house keepers might have found out, in 
some way, where these men had their homes and might have 
sent the sad news. But who cared? Alas! how many homes 
there are from which wanderers have gone out and were thus 
lost and not a word about the last struggle and the end has 
ever reached them. Death is sad enough when our loved ones 
die at home, where we can do all that lies in human power, 
and tenderly minister to them till the end, then close their 
eyes and bury them. Even then we visit their graves and they 
seem to be with us still. But how much sadder it is for a 
young man, the pride of father and the hope of that dear 
mother, to wander away from that home and never return. 
Long, long years pass by and no news, no tidings from afar. 
He is lost! 

Harry soon regained his strength and we shipped in the 
bark Liverpool, bound for Quebec with a cargo of coal. We 
were told that the vessel lay at Grenoch, that they could not 
get a crew at Grenoch and so the captain had come up to 
Glasgow to get his men. We had to get ready in a hurry. It 
was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon when we shipped, 
and we had to leave at four o’clock on the train for Grenoch. 
Old Jack had shipped with us. Poor old fellow! he had 
staid as long as Mother Murphy would keep him, and now 
had to go. 

We had a good dinner and soon after two o’clock we left. 
At the depot we found the rest of the crew, who came from 
another boarding house. They were accompanied by their 
boarding house master, who went along to be sure of the ad- 
vance notes, which were payable ten days after the departure 
of the vessel. The captain came in time to get the tickets and 
see that we were all there. Arriving at Grenoch, we were 
all hurried through town ; we got in a sail boat which was 
awaiting us at the landing and went straight on board. The 
boatman told us, half jokingly and half in earnest, “she’s a 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


139 


poor old critter, boys. Plenty of men in Grenoch, but not a 
soul here would risk his life in her.” 

The Liverpool certainly looked like an “old critter;” di- 
lapidated, with a “broken back,” heavy, old fashioned gear 
and heavily loaded. She was about eight hundred tons, bark 



THE “OLD CRITTER.” 


rigged, and what attracted our attention most, was a windmill 
pump ; rather a bad sign, as it indicated a great deal of pump- 
ing. She carried six seamen and two ordinaries before the 
mast, and captain, two mates and a cook. We went to 
work at once, got the running gear ready and everything in 
order for leaving early next morning, which was Thursday. 
While we were at supper the captain came into the forecastle, 
sat down on the edge of a bunk and talked pleasantly. “I 
just want to get acquainted with you,” he said. Then he 
asked each man’s name, promised us watch and watch and 
hoped we would have a pleasant voyage. The mate, an old 
man, was pleasant and quiet. The second mate was rather 
young, but was full of life and fun. The doctor was an old 
man-of-war’s-man, with an abundant supply of yarns. So 


140 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


our disappointment growing out of the dilapidated appearance 
of the vessel, gave way to the hopes of a pleasant voyage and 
a good time. 

At peep of day we were called out, washed dowm the decks 
and hove short. By the time it was good daylight the tow 
boat came off, bringing the pilot. “Man the windlass,” he 
called out as soon as he came on board. After a few words 
with the captain and mate, the latter came forward. “Heave 
away,” he said, coming up on the forecastle, and the old- 
fashioned windlass creaked and rattled as the heavy anchor 
broke loose from the bottom. The second mate, who had 
paid out the hawser to the tow boat, now came up on the fore- 
castle, jumped up on the capstan and clapping his hands to- 
gether, said, “Let’s have a chant, boys.” The windlass rat- 
tled the accompaniment while the second mate sang the solo 
and the men with a steady tramp abound the capstan, sang: 
the chorus. 

Solo— “ Hurrah, my boys, we are outward bound,” 

Chorus — “Good-bye, fare you well. Good bye, fare you well.” 

S. — “We’re outward bound for Quebec town,” 

C. — “ Hurrah, my boys, hurrah ! ” 

S. — “We’ll sail away with a good fair wind,” 

C. — “Good-bye, fare you well. Good-bye, fare you well.” 

S. — “And leave behind our kith and kin,” 

C. — “ Hurrah, my boys, hurrah ! ” 

S. — “ My sweetheart— she will wait for me,” 

C.— “Good-bye, fare you well. Good-bye, fare you well.” 

S. — “And if she don’t, another there’ll be,” 

C. — “ Hurrah, my boys, hurrah ! ” Etc., etc. 

As soon as the anchor appeared above the water, the tug 
pulled away at full speed. The second mate and two men 
now went down into the fore hold to stow away the cable, but 
came up again directly, laughing and talking, and bringing 
with them five boys who had stowed away. They were little 
outcasts, “wharf rats,” as the mate called them. The oldest 
was about thirteen and the youngest only eight years old. 
They were ragged and dirty, and begged to stay. Poor little 
fellows! They had not had Carl to stow them away, and had 
gotten in the very best place to be discovered. 

As soon as the cable was stowed we had breakfast. The 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


141 


Clyde is a beautiful river, the water clear, and the scenery 
romantic and interesting, as it is so closely connected with 
the literature and history of Scotland. Soon after dinner the 
tow boat left us, taking with it our pilot and the stow away 
boys. Poor lads ! they wanted to go with us so bad, but the 
captain would not take them. 

The wind was not altogether favorable, and we had to tack. 
The Liverpool did not lay well to the wind, and so we made 
but little progress. Besides, she was not easily managed, and 
did not answer readily to the helm, and her sails looked as 
though they had been bought second-hand, and did not fit 
tight. The top sails were too large, and bagged; while the 
foresail and mainsail were too small. At four o’clock the 
captain decided to run in at Ayr, and about five o’clock we 
came to anchor. The wind remained at north-east, dead 
against us, and we remained at Ayr for three days. Then, 
with a south-east wind we hove anchor and stood out to sea, 
out through the North Channel and into the Atlantic Ocean. 

One morning as we sat at breakfast a boy crawled on deck 
and came into the forecastle. Another stowaway, and he 
was nearly starved. We gave him a hard-tack and some meat. 
He told us he had come with the other boys, but had crawled 
into the hold and laid down on the coal. 

The mill, located just before the mizzenmast, was kept busy 
almost night and day, as the old critter leaked badly. W e made 
a northern passage across the Atlantic. It was about the 1st 
of December when we sighted land, somewhere on the coast 
of Maine. Here again the wind turned against us, and for 
two or three weeks we lay close by the wind — that is, as close 
as the critter would go — about seven points, and making near- 
ly as much leeway as headway. So we remained in about the 
same latitude. One morning, as I stood at the wheel, the 
captain came up on deck, as calm and indifferent as if he did 
not care much whether we ever got to Quebec or not. “ Keep 
her off a point,” he said to me, then turning to the second 
mate he said: “I’m going away from the land four or five 
hundred miles. May be we can get a fair wind. We haven’t 
made ten miles on our course in two weeks.” 

Things were getting rather monotonous. Old Jack, Mack, 


142 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


Harry and I made up the starboard watch. Old Jack and 
Mack quarreled constantly. They were both old men, and 
rather presumed on their age and made the work too hard on 
Harry and me. After steering nearly due west for two days, 
the wind hauled to the north-east, so we tacked and now made 
about a course of north-east, allowing one point for leeway. 

A ship has a peculiar influence over her crew. If the ship is 
neat and clean, gracefully rigged with sails trim and taut, so 
are the men. In the critter, as we all called the Liverpool by 
this time, the opposite was the case. She was clumsy, and 
most of her hull was tarred instead of painted, even on deck. 
Only the inside of the bulwarks, the companionway on the 
quarter deck and the forecastle on the main deck were painted 
white, trimmed with yellow. Everything else was either bare 
or tarred. And aloft? — well, the critter as a whole looked 
like Old Jack; his clothes, bought at some second-hand store, 
did not fit him ; the pants were too small, tight and short ; the 



OLD JACK. 


coat, too large, hung loosely around his shoulders, and came 
down to his knees; his bare feet hid in an old pair of boots, 
also too large, with the toes turned up and the heels run down 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


143 


on the inside, and on his head he wore an old fur cap. Thus 
the critter bore a striking resemblance to Old Jack — poor old 
critter! poor Old Jack. I pitied Old Jack most. His yarns, 
at first interesting, became very tedious as he told them over 
and over again, each time making some change in them. Ac- 
cording to his own stories, told at different times and in 
different ways, Harry and I figured it up one evening and if 
they had been true. Old Jack must have been at least two 
hundred and fifty years older than he really was. Mack was 
different. He contradicted everything that was told, or put in 
something that was left out and added something else to com- 
plete it. Old Jack had made George, our stowaway boy, a 
canvas suit, and looked after the boy with a kind of fatherly 
interest that made Mack jealous, as he also wanted to be the 
father. Poor little George, eleven years old, had a hard time 
of it between these two old men. 

Harry and I spent our odd time together, telling each other 
about our boyhood and school days, our homes and all that 
was past. We planned together for the future and hoped 
that we would never be separated. We were again approach- 
ing land. One morning we sighted a brigantine on our 
weather quarter. By noon she had caught up with us and 
bore off a little so as to get closer to us. She was the most 
beautiful thing I ever saw float on the water. Her hull was 
painted white, her spars clean and oiled, or varnished over 
the natural wood, blocks painted white, and her American cot- 
ton sails as white as snow. She danced along over the waves 
like a happy child dressed in Sunday clothes and going to a 
picnic. She had come from Boston and was also bound for 
Quebec. We were in speaking distance and the captains of 
the two vessels had some conversation. As she was moving on 
ahead of us, her crew went up into the main rigging and gave 
us three cheers. We too went up in our rigging and responded 
to the greeting. By evening she was some distance ahead of 
us. 

That night a sudden gale burst upon us from the north- 
west. We had just taken in our small sails and reefed our 
topsails, when, with the fury of a hurricane, the wind struck 
us and blew away our sails as if they had been paper. “All 


144 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


hands on deck,” cried the captain, “get the storm spanker 
and bend it, quick.” We were laying broadside to the sea 
which now rose mountain high. After some fifteen or twenty 
minutes of hard work, made much more diificult by the waves 
lashing across our decks, we finally got the sail up and slowly 
the critter turned her head to the sea and bravely did she 
weather it through the night. Next morning it was cloudy, 
and a slow, misty rain fell. We were just planning to get 
sails aloft and had gotten another suit of topsails and a fore- 
sail on deck, when the mate sighted a vessel to windward. 
She bore straight down upon us, but missed us. It was a 
two-masted vessel, or rather, had been, as both masts were 
lost. She passed astern of us ; we kept off with only the top- 
gallant sails and jibs set, and came within a mile or so of the 
drifting vessel, and our hearts sank within us as we recog- 
nized the brigantine that had passed us the morning before 
so bright, so happy, and now a wreck. The flag of distress 
was hoisted on the stump that remained of the mainmast. 
We got within less than half a mile of her, but the sea ran 
high and the wind was still strong. They were sinking. Old 
Jack stopi^ed chewing his tobacco with his gums (he had no 
teeth), looked as pale as death, and stood at the wheel as if 
frozen to the spot, while great tears trickled down his fur- 
rowed cheeks and fell in drops to the deck. We all gathered 
on the quarter deck. Sometimes it seemed that we could hear 
their cries for help rising above the rushing of the pitiless 
waves, but they could see that we were helpless ; then she 
bowed her head. “Great God,” cried out the mate as he 
burst into tears, “I can’t see it,” and he turned away. The 
vessel, after a few more desperate struggles, sank within our 
sight and we were powerless to help her. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


145 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MORE ABOUT THE OLD CRITTER. 

After a long, tedious passage of nearly seven weeks we made 
the Bay of St. Lawrence. Our fresh water supply was getting 
low, and provisions threatened to give out; so we were put on 
short rations, but we now hoped to reach Quebec in eight or 
ut most, ten days. “Keep a good lookout ahead for a light 
house,” was the captain’s last command before going below 
on Saturday night. We were nearing Cape East and ex- 
pected to alter our course as soon as we sighted it. About 
ten o’clock the clouds were rolling up heavily and it became 
threatening. The mate went into the cabin to look at the 
barometer; came up again in a hurry, called the man from the 
lookout, then took the wheel himself and told Harry, who 
had been steering, to take in k\\ the small sails. Harry was 
the best seaman on board and the mate, as well as the cap- 
tain, had unbounded coufidence in him. By the time this 
was done it was getting very dark and the mate called the 
captain. “Take in your top-gallant sails,” said he as soon as 
he reached the deck. Again the mate took the wheel while 
Harry and Old Jack went up the foremast and Mack and I 
went up the main to furl the top-gallant sails. We had 
scarcely gotten down on deck when the captain himself called 
out the watch below and also the second mate. “Take in 
your fore topsail,” came the order as the men were getting 
up on deck. “All hands aloft,” said the mate as he lowered 
the halyards and the great mass of canvas fluttered in the 
wind and shook the old critter from stem to stern. As we 
got aloft and strung along the yard, the wind suddenly died 
away. “Hurry up,” said Harry, who was next to me on the 
weather yard arm, “we are going to have a blow to-night and 
its going to hit right now.” Harry was right. We had the 
sail up on the yard and were passing the gaskets, as the storm 
came rushing over the waves from straight ahead of us. For 
a moment we could see it as it came driving the white crested 


146 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


foam before it, then it struck us madly. The mate called out 
to us but we could not understand him, only heard his voice. 
We finished tying up the topsail and went down on deck. It 
was pitch dark and the wind shrieked through our rigging. 
The main topsail and mainsail were both gone, had blown 
away, but the fore and main staysails and the spanker still 
held on. As the head of the critter turned to starboard we 
hauled down the spanker just in time to save it. The main 
staysail split, tore into shreds and blew away. We now hauled 
down the fore staysail, and by slacking up the sheet a little 
and using great care we lowered it slowly and got it down. 

George was on the forecastle, crying. Just then a fearful 
sea plunged over the weather bow, sweeping everything be- 
fore it that was movable. Two men went out on the bow- 
sprit to tie up the staysail, two others staying on deck ta 
slack away the sheets as the first two men pulled it out on the 
bowsprit. “Where’s George?” called Harry at the top of his- 
voice. “Look for him,” he called again, and with that he 
caught me by the arm and shouted in my ear, “you go down, 
on deck and see if you can find him.” I went, watching my 
opportunity to run for something to which I could hold, be- 
fore turning loose the ring bolt that had saved me from being 
washed overboard. I caught the windlass head just as another 
heavy sea rose high before us and came down on the forward 
part of the ship with a crash. I felt uneasy for the men on the 
bowsprit as I groped my way about the deck. I felt along 
until I found that the lee bulwarks were gone; to search fur- 
ther was useless. Poor little George must have washed over- 
board. Just then the mate called us all aft to bend the storm 
spanker. It had saved us once before, and our lives again 
depended largely on that small, three cornered sail which is 
hoisted up on the mizzenmast, lashing the sheet to the boom. 

This done, the second mate noticed that the mill was gone. 
“Never mind, now,” said the captain, “we are in a good ship. 
Look out for the gear on deck and we can fix the pumps in 
the morning.’' Then he called out again, “are we all here? 
All hands to muster.” The mate repeated the order, “all 
hands to muster.” Old Jack and George were missing. It 
was so dark that we could see absolutely nothing. The ship 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


147 


was now heading the sea and the wind, and we began our 
search to see if the missing shipmates could be found — in 
vain. Yet the mate had a little hope of finding them tangled 
up in the running gear which still lay in confused masses, 
washed about the deck. 

The old critter pitched heavily; there was a crash — it was 
not aloft — did her planking give way? If so, we are lost. 
The doctor, who had helped as bravely as any man on board, 
came up on the quarter deck and said: “Captain, she has 
sprung a leak, and water is rushing into her.” The captain, 
as calm as ever, went to the main hatch and with the assist- 
ance of several men, opened one corner, then shut it down 
again and called out: “Man the pumps.” We took doAvn 
the long rod, now bent, which had attached the pump to the 
mill, and started the pumps by hand power. They were good 
pumps, the only new fashioned thing about the old fashioned 
critter. We pumped, four men at a time, relieving each other 
every fifteen or twenty minutes. It was hard work. Every 
now and then the captain took his turn with the men. The 
wind now settled into a steady gale from the south-east. All 
night we pumped and the water in the hold seemed to get no 
lower. 

By four o’clock in the morning the clouds scattered and we 
could see the stars and patches of the sky, but the wind was 
the same, the waves were short and ran high, then burst into 
foam and came down with a crash on our ship’s head. Be- 
fore five o’clock we could see the first signs of day. One of 
the men went into the forecastle after a piece of tobacco and 
came back laughing loudly. “Old Jack has hid himself,” he 
said, “the old woman (as the port watch called Jack) is scared 
nearly to death and won’t come out.” The mate went and 
brought him. The poor old fellow was still trembling from 
head to foot. Just then another sea lashed the bow of the 
ship and came heavily down on the main deck, knocking the 
old man sprawling and washing him across the deck where 
Harry and the second mate caught him. 

“What’s that?” cried Mack, as if startled at something 
new. It was something new and every man was horror 
stricken. Even the captain turned deathly pale. It was the 


148 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


rocky coast of Newfoundland, and we were steadily drifting 
straight towards it. We were utterly helpless, and now what 
little hope we had left gave way. The cursing ceased. Strong 
men wept. Mack clutched my knees and wept like a child. 
“Oh ! boy, can you pray? I’m not ready to die, I’m not ready 
to die.” Despair took hold of me; all the past flashed 
through my mind in a moment, and from the depths of my 
heart I cried to God to save us. Still the great black rocks 
drew nearer. “Can an unconverted man pray?” has been 
discussed, pro and con. I was not then a Christian, but I be- 
lieve with all my heart that God heard the prayers that went 
up to Him that morning from the hearts of our despairing 
crew, for, after two hours’ drifting towards those death deal- 
ing rocks, the mate exclaimed: “Look here, we have not 
changed our course.” As we lifted our eyes once again to 
those dark rocks, now scarcely two miles from us, we could 
see the breakers as they dashed against the rocks and tossed 
the spray high into the air, as if wildly delighting in the an- 
ticipation of our destruction. We now noticed that the 
coast was moving around slightly to our port quarter; slowly 
but steadily it crept over the water till it was abeam of us, 
and in a few hours we passed through the Strait of Belle Isle 
and into the Atlantic Ocean. “Well,” said the captain, 
when we were safe — comparatively so, “I ought to have known 
this. There’s a strong current coming down the St. Law- 
rence river, striking the coast of Newfoundland and passing 
out through the Strait of Belle Isle. W''e were blown into the 
current, it caught us, and carried us by the breakers.” 

“Best the pumps awhile,” said the mate, “and let’s clear 
the deck.” The second mate and Harry went forward to 
clear the ropes that lay around about the foremast. While 
at work there, they found George under the windlass clutch- 
ing the cable. He was unconscious and his hands had to 
be prized open to get them loose from their hold, poor little 
fellow. He must have washed off the forecastle head, struck 
against the windlass and catching to the cable washed under 
it. At first they thought he was dead, but found he was 
breathing, though badly hurt. There was an ugly gash on 
the side of his head, and we feared one of his legs was broken. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


149 


He was carried into the forecastle, where Old Jack had again 
retreated, and the two left together. This brought Old Jack 
to his senses again, and he bent over the boy, gently stroked 
his head, and promised to do all he could. 

The wind abated towards noon and we had to devise some 
way to get sails aloft. We found but three sails in the sail 
loft, a gaft top sail, an old ragged jib and a tolerably good 
top gallant sail, the latter much too large for our vessel and 
had evidently seen service in some big ship. The captain, 
after surveying all the possibilities, told us to take down the 
fore top sail (the one we furled just as the storm struck us) 
and bend it for a main sail ; take this new top gallant sail and 
use it for a fore sail ; then take down both our top gallant 
sails and bend them as top sails. It was a hard day’s work, 
but by sun-down we were once more under sail. We had 
kept the pumps going at intervals during the day. 

The sky was cleaT and the night was beautiful. All hands 
had been on deck and hard at work since the storm and we 
were very tired. “Let the watch go below,” said the captain 
about 8 o’clock, “but give her one more good turn at the 
pumps.” We had pumped but a few minutes when the pumps 
choked and we had to stop. For an hour we worked taking 
out the top parts of the pumps; only one, the port pump, was 
choked. Some suggested that we use but one pump during 
the night and clear the other next morning; but that was not 
best as we could throw double the amount of water with the 
same work, if both pumps would work. We now had the 
first opportunity to ascertain the exact amount of water there 
was in the hold, and found it to be three feet and nine inches ; 
that was serious. “Boys,” said the captain, “we are bound 
to keep the pumps going, and the only way to clear that choke 
is to get down to it.” “ Come on,” said the second mate, “I 
want to beat Davy Jones, if I can.” As that was the general 
sentiment, we opened the main hatch and tried to dig down 
into the coal, making but a small hole and bracing it with such 
sticks and planks as we had. “ That won’t do,” said the cap- 
tain. Men, this will be a big job, but its the only way to do 
it. Come here, all of you.” Then we got all the deck buck- 
ets, formed a line from the lee side of the ship to the hold. 


150 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


and down to the coal. “ Pass along, now,” said the captain, 
stationed by the hatch in line with the rest of us; and so we 
threw coal overboard all night long, and still had not reached 
the bottom. “ Doctor,” said the captain to the cook, “ you 
go and get us the best breakfast you can make. Take any- 
thing you can find in the store room, but don’t waste a parti- 
cle, for things are getting mighty low,” 

The sun rose; a glorious morning — for the sea gulls or fish. 
The work was just a little heavier now since the doctor left, 
but the captain called Old Jack, who was fast asleep, and 
made him fall into line. By six o’clock we reached the bot- 
tom of the vessel, having thrown overboard not less than 150 
tons of coal. It had lightened the old critter fully two feet, 
but as the mate let down a stick into the pump, the water 
measured nearly six feet. The pump was cleared; no small 
task, as it had to be done under water. We evened the coal, 
sloping it around the pump and fixing it so there would be no 
danger of another choke. 

“Let’s have breakfast,” said the captain. “Let’s have it 
right here on the main hatch all together.” We w^ere a mot- 
ley looking group as we gathered around the impromptu ta- 
ble, wet to the skin, black with coal dust, bare headed, cloth- 
ing more or less torn — and yet it was solemn. We ate our 
breakfast in silence, but we were hungry, except Old Jack 
who said that he was sick and had no appetite; but we doubted 
him just a little, as he had eaten all the hard-tack and a big 
chunk of salt pork left from yesterday’s dinner and supper. 

“Now to the pumps,” said the captain, as we had finished. 
“If we can get the water down to three feet, we’ll all rest for 
the day,” then turning to Old Jack, who was about to go back 
to the forecastle, he said, “Jack, you take the wheel now. 
You’ve had a good rest and you’ll stay there all day.” Jack 
went and relieved the second mate, who had been steering 
since soon after midnight. We pumped until eleven o’clock, 
when the water lacked about an inch or so of being down to 
three feet. Then the captain told us to stop and lie down and 
rest. Some of us were too tired to sleep, but the rest did us 
good. Harry had gotten hurt some way and his sleep was 
restless and he talked about George. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


151 


Poor little George was in great pain. His leg was not brok- 
en, but badly crushed and very much swollen about the hip 
and knee. His head also was bruised and swollen and very 
sore. After an hour or more, I, too, fell asleep. It was six 
o’clock when we were roused by the doctor. “Boys,” he said, 
as he brought in our supper, “the meat is nearly out. Three 
or four days is as long as it will last.” We hoped to make 
8t. John by that time and so gave the matter no further 
thought. We had drifted nearly abreast of Greenland before 
we got any headway. The wind was hauling more to the east, 
which was against us, but we hoped for a north wind, that we 
might make a port somewhere on the coast of Newfound- 
land if we failed to reach St. John. 

“Oh! I tell you,” said the second mate to Harry, a few 
mornings later, “she’s a good ship yet. If we just had some 
sails and plenty to eat, I would not care much where the wind 
came from.” It seemed as if the leak had dried up to some 
extent. We could not rig up the old mill again as we had lost 
the gear, but fifteen or twenty minutes’ pumping every two 
hours kept the water down to the mark. The wind settled in 
the east. It was nearing Christmas. Meat and flour were 
gone; water would have been out before this, had it not been 
for some timely rain. Only hard-tack and black co:ffee with- 
out sugar remained. Four or five more days passed, water 
was about to give out again and the coffee was nearly gone 
when we sighted an Italian bark. We signaled, they did 
not answer, for the old critter looked like the tramp that 
she was. We hoisted the signal of distress, then the bark 
answered, bore off and came toward us. She was bound for 
St. John. Yes, she could give us some water and provisions. 
We launched our long boat. Four men and the second mate 
manned her and pulled off. They returned with three bar- 
rels of flour, two large casks of water, a case (12 bottles) of 
wine, two boxes of crackers, a barrel of salt pork, and some 
small articles. Although our captain had sent a ten pound 
note, the captain of the Italian vessel would accept no pay. 
We were truly grateful for what was to us a princely gift. 

The captain called us aft and said, in substance: “Men, 
we are in a peculiar position. This wind may last for several 


152 


THE STOEY OF THE SEAS. 


weeks, and if it does, with what few sails we have we can 
make no headway. We have but two weeks’ provisions and 
I have about decided to square the yards and make for where 
we came from — go back to Grenoch. What do you think of 
it?” Of course we left the matter with him and so squared 
our yards and steered about south-east, with what was now a 
fair wind. In spite of the square yards and fair wind the old 
critter poked along as if she had plenty of time. She simply 
would not be pushed. Water gave out first, and we were still 
a thousand miles from land. Doctor distilled some sea water 
on which we lived for four days; the wind then changed to 
north-east bringing with it a good raio, of which we caught 
enough to last several weeks. Then the hard-tack gave out, 
but we had still a barrel and a half of flour. 

We were driven too far south to steer for Grenoch and so 
made for Cork, in the south of Ireland, and missed that, too, 
but reached the south coast of England. So having eaten 
the last of everything eatable, we reached Falmouth about 
the middle of February. W e had been out about four months, 
the most trying four months I ever spent aboard a ship. 

Here in Falmouth we learned that we had been given up 
for lost. When we left the old critter she looked as con- 
tented as if she had been used to such trips all her life; per- 
haps she had. As soon as we were paid off. Old Jack, Harry 
and I bade farewell to the rest of the crew and took a steamer 
for Dublin, where we spent two delightful days and left Old 
Jack — drunk. Then Harry and I took a steamer for Glasgow 
and were again lodged in Mother Murphy’s boarding house. 


CHAPTER XX. 

AMONG THE BEE AKERS. 

There were crowds of sailors in Glasgow, and hence wages 
had gone down to their minimum, three pounds for seamen 
and two pounds for ordinary seamen. We stayed a week. 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


153 


having three beds in each room and two men to each bed, as 
the boarding house was crowded and the boarders more or less 
hard up and anxious to ship. “Let’s get away from here,” 
said Harry to me one morning, “we won’t get a ship here in 
a month.” We decided to wait two days longer until the 
Loch Catherine should ship, as we desired very much to make 
a voyage to the East Indies. 

It was on Thursday. The shipping office was crowded with 
sailors and at least a hundred men stood on the sidewalk. 
The men who had sailed in the same line before were given 
the preference and so there were more than enough old hands. 
Harry and I were left. That night we took a train for Liver- 
pool where we hoped to find it easier to get a ship. As we 
were the only two men who had any money. Mother Murphy 
was much disappointed at our leaving. Harry and Dora had 
quite a scene — but I promised not to tell. 

Arriving next morning at Liverpool we went at once to the 
Sailor’s Home. This is the best institution of the kind in 
England; an immense building, attractive and convenient, 
and can accommodate perhaps five hundred seamen. We 
found between three and four hundred men there when we 
arrived. We paid our two weeks’ board in advance, accord- 
ing to the rules of the house and were given a neat room on 
the second floor. Liverpool, from a salt water view, is a 
tough town. Seamen at the home are constantly besieged by 
the numerous drummers representing outfitters, saloons, dance 
houses, theaters and all sorts of places more or less bad. 
Although this is against the law, yet these drummers manage 
to thrive. They met us at the corner of the street every, 
time we walked out, sometimes a dozen of them, handing us 
their cards, obscene pictures and hand bills with glowing ad- 
vertisements and offering their personal service in conducting 
us to their places. It was very annoying. The officials of 
the place did their best to suppress them, but could not 
catch them; and the sailors? well they good naturedly, would 
not give them away. 

While in Liverpool we visited the great prison. It was on 
Monday, the weekly visiting day. We asked a policeman who 
paced up and down in front of the building, if we could enter 


154 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


and see the prison. He looked at us for a moment and said, 
“Who do you want to see?” We told him that we were 
strangers and did not know anybody within and only wished 
to see the place. Then after a moment, he said snappishly 
and so quickly that he startled us, “Don’t you see that door?” 
“Yes, sir,” replied Harry. “Well,” he snapped again, “why 
don’t you go in?” Then he resumed his pace. As that 
seemed to be the way in which he granted his permission or 
gave out his information, we took it and went in. Policemen 
everywhere; and they eyed us so suspiciously that it made me 
feel quite uncomfortable. In the office we were asked to 
leave our watches, money, knives and even our handkerchiefs 
and some cigars. Still not satisfied a man asked us to turn 
our pockets and he searched us from head to foot; then he 
conducted us out of the office. As we walked along a narrow 
corridor, he remarked: “I suppose you think we search you 
rather closely, don’t you? Well, we have to. Sometimes we 
make men undress to be sure that they carry nothing to the 
prisoners that might do harm.” We went through the 
laundry, bath rooms, dining room and kitchen, most of these 
departments being operated by convicts. Then we entered the 
work shop. Here were shoemakers and tailors and quite a 
large department where prisoners made toys. All were busy. 
We were not allowed to talk to any of them. The prisoners 
worked in silence, only the clicks and taps of tools and 
machinery were audible. Some looked contented and glanced 
up with a smile as we passed, others appeared sullen and some 
few looked desperate and with half a chance would have 
dared anything. 

Then we went down a flight of steps, through a short, nar- 
row passage and into a long, narrow department, where, to 
the left, was the dreaded treadmill; shaped like the long stern 
wheel of some monster river steamer, perhaps ten or twelve 
feet in diameter. Men and women with bare arms, and legs 
bare to the knees, paid their hard labor penalties. Tramp, 
tramp, tramp, with their bare feet, holding with their hands 
to a horizontal iron bar above their heads. The weight of 
their bodies moved the great wheel and furnished the power 
for the machinery in the work shop. Four turnkeys with 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


155 


lashes in their hands watch these poor wretches and keep 
them going. Alas! that such places and such punishments 
have to be devised for our fellow men and even for women 
too; for some women have stooped as low in vice and crime 
and utter degradation as men. Leaving here, we passed 
again through the workshop and were about to leave, when 
we noticed a large room with wooden benches around the 
walls, and some fifteen or twenty people in there, as if wait- 
ing for something. “These people came to see some of the 
prisoners,” was the reply of our guide in answer to my in- 
quiry. “Let’s wait and see them,” said Harry, and so we re- 
mained. I noticed especially one woman, strikingly like my 
mother. Every few moments she wiped away her tears as she 
sat there waiting. Now the iron door opened. First came 
two policemen and stationed themselves, one at each door. 
The woman just mentioned got up and hastened towards one 
of the prisoners — a young man about twenty-five years of age. 
She clasped her arms about him and called him “my dear 
boy.” They sat down together and talked. I forgot the 
others and could not help but listen as they sat down close 
to us. That mother told that dear boy about home affairs, 
his little brother and sister, etc. Then our guide motioned 
us to come away, but that picture of that mother, who, I 
learned, came every Monday from some distance in the coun- 
try to see her wayward boy, who was serving a twenty years’ 
sentence — that picture touched my heart, and I silently prom- 
ised my mother that, though I was wayward and bad, she 
should never have to visit me in a place like that. Oh! how 
a mother’s love clings to a wayward son, and a father’s affec- 
tion goes nearly as far. Yet how infinitely much more does 
God love the sinner. Christ came further and went to a far 
greater sacrifice than did that mother. That mother did what 
she could; told that wayward boy of home, and love and for- 
giveness ; so God has sent to us the tidings through Christ of 
eternal home and eternal love and eternal forgiveness. 

We had been in Liverpool about a week when, having failed 
to get an East India ship, we shipped in the Swallow, a light 
barkantine bound for Rio Janeiro. “She’s a daisy,” exclaimed 
Harry, when we went oh board. We found ourselves in the 


156 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


forecastle with four others — six in all — before the mast. The 
captain was a Welshman, short and stout, with flashing eyes, 
a bushy beard all over his face, and restless and quick in all 
his movements. He, together with the mate, second mate, 
doctor and an apprenticed boy, made up the crew. 

We had two men in the forecastle whom I did not like. 
They had served a term of years in the penitentiary, having 
just been discharged, and they seemed rather to glory in it. 
They were regular toughs. They picked their bunks first 
and kicked my chest away from where I put it. Harry had 
temporarily placed a bundle in one of the bunks claimed by 
one of these hard cases, who grabbed it and threw it out on 
deck. “That’s mine,” interposed Harry. “Then go with it, 
d — n you.” With that he knocked Harry down, for though 
otherwise they might have been well matched, in this Harry 
had been taken altogether unawares. With such a beginning 
things promised to be rather disagreeable. 

Our baggage being deposited we were called out on deck. 
It was about ten o’clock and by the time we had cast loose the 
moorings and cleared the deck the great lock gates swung 
slowly open, a towboat pulled us out of the dock, and we 
moved down the river with the rapidity of the outflowing 
tide. These two unruly shipmates were more or less masters 
of the situation. They were tall, heavy set men, and there 
was but little doubt that either one of them could verify their 
threats made more than once during the forenoon and “lick 
any man aboard.” Dinner was ready, and the captain called 
the somewhat less^vicious of the two. Bump by name, to take 
the wheel. He went, and the other, Toggy, went on into the 
forecastle. “ Hurry up and get the grub,” he said to me ab- 
ruptly. Jim, the other ordinary besides myself, came and 
helped me. There was some good, fresh boiled beef, and some 
soup and Irish potatoes. It was a good dinner for a merchant 
ship, and there was enough of it, though none too much. 
“ Hold on,” said Toggy, as Harry was about to help himself 
to some soup ; “ the best man comes first.” With that Toggy 
took about three times his share, then the same three shares 
of meat and about half of the potatoes — more than he could 
possibly have eaten. This was too much. Quick as a flash. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


157 


Harry snatched the soup pan and threw the hot contents into 
Toggy’s face, then jumped on him and pounded him until he 
•cried for mercy. Toggy, with his face badly scalded, nose and 
mouth bleeding and battered up considerably, rose into a sit- 
ting posture, extended his hand to Harry and said: “Pal, 
you’re a man ; shake.” They shook hands, and then Harry 
turned to the rest of us, who had gotten out on deck when 
hostilities began, and said : “ Come in and let’s have a fair di- 
vision of what’s left.” Toggy even divided meat and pota- 
toes with us, the soup having been all upset in the scuffle. 
Toggy seemed satisfied, at least for the present, but when 
Bump came forward he swore that he’d “ clean up the whole 
lot of us.” However, he ate his dinner, which the doctor 
had ready for him, and peace was restored. 

About two o’clock we were called on deck again with the 
order, “All hands make sail.” In about an hour all sails 
were set and the tow boat left us. For some cause we had 
Fad no pilot coming out of Liverpool. At six o’clock we 
had supper. I was at the wheel, but learned that there were 
no further battles. At eight bells the watches were chosen, 
and much to my regret Harry and I were separated, he being 
in the port watch, together with Toggy and Jim, and I being 
with Bob and Bump in the starboard watch. The port watch 
went below. As Harry went into the forecastle, he said to me, 
^‘If Bump is ugly, you sing out and I’ll help you.” I prom- 
ised I would, and so went to the lookout. Bump took the 
wheel, and Bob came up to me on the forecastle head and 
said : “ Look here, we’ll have to watch those fellows; one of 
my new shirts is gone, and I know one of those blackguarding 
thieves got it.” I advised him to tell the captain. “Well,’’ 
he said, “ I’ll wait until I see the fellow with it on, and then 
try to get it back.” 

We passed Holyhead just before eight bells. The night was 
clear, the moon had just risen and the wind was light, but 
from nearly due north. As the watch came up on deck we 
helped them square the yards as we changed our course to 
south-south-west, wing-wanged the main sail and mizzen and 
went below. I looked hastily into my chest. It was undis- 
turbed. As I was very tired I was soon fast asleep. The 


158 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


next day (Friday) the wind changed to north-east, and it waa 
cloudy and rained at intervals. The breeze increased, but we 
carried all our sails and plunged through the Irish Sea at a 
rate of fourteen knots. 

The Swallow was certainly a fine sailer. She pitched but 
little, and rolled less. The captain seemed to be a fair minded 
man and both the mates were pleasant, and but for those un- 
social companions in the forecastle, we had the promise of a 
good voyage. Most of the second day was spent in clearing 
the deck of everything that was not needed there and getting 
ready for the heavier sea that we would meet in twenty-four 
hours when we should enter the broad Atlantic. Bump grum- 
bled at everything and cursed me two or three times, as we 
had to work together when Bob was at the wheel. But the 
day wore away. 

It was now our first watch (eight to twelve) below. It was 
late in February and the night was wet and cold. At twelve 
o’clock we came on deck again. I took the wheel and the 
second mate began talking to me pleasantly. He was born 
and reared in Liverpool and of course loved that city as no 
other. About three bells (half after one o’clock Bump, 
who was at the lookout, called out something, but we could 
not understand him. A moment later he came running onto 
the quarter deck, having called the watch as he passed the 
forecastle, and shouted wildly, “hard up your wheel, hard,, 
hard up! Call the captain and mate, quick!” he said to the 
second mate, then pushed me aside, took the wheel and turned 
it up. The ship’s head swung rapidly round and — crash! 
went the foremast and jibboom. The captain and the mate 
came up on deck undressed, the men came aft, when, with 
another fearful crash the heavy hull of the vessel struck upon 
a rock. Again she rose and struck the third time, with such 
force that we were all knocked off the quarter deck and landed 
against the after hatch on the main deck. The great main- 
mast toppled forward, the Swallow keeled over, water dashed 
over my face and I remembered nothing more until I awoke 
from what seemed, at first, simply a horrible dream and found 
myself lying on my back on the rocks. My head was sore and 
badly bruised, and I felt stiff all over. Gradually I realized 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


159 


that I was not dreaming. I called Harry — no answer. Again 
and again I called. Some one answered, it was not Harry. 
Then with great pain I raised myself to a sitting posture and 
there lay a man close to me. The moon, though on the wane, 
shone brightly, and the stars twinkled through the night air 
and close to my feet the waves lashed the shore. The man 
close to me looked up to the sky with eyes wide open. It was 
Bump. I called to him, but he did not answer — oh ! God, he 
was dead. Then I remembered the Swallow’s striking the 
rocks. The horror of the moment gave me almost supernat- 
ural strength ; I got up and found three other men lying a 
little ways from Bump. They were hurt, but one of them 
spoke to me; it was Jim. “Where’s Harry?” I asked, anx- 
iously. “I don’t know,” he said. “Come,” I urged, “and 
help me find him;” and helping him up we searched further 
till we found him badly hurt, but not unconscious. His jaw- 
bone seemed dislocated and he could not speak. It was get- 
ing daylight. Harry got up, he could walk, but felt dizzy. 
We went down to the water, as near as we could on the slip- 
pery rocks, bathed our bruised limbs and went to search for 
our shipmates. We met Bob coming towards us. He had 
not been badly hurt and had for some time been hunting us. 
We found the captain unconscious, but not seriously hurt; 
the mate had a broken leg, and the second mate, who was 
talking to me at the lime of the accident, could not be found. 
When the sun rose we had gathered together the captain, 
mate, doctor. Bob, Jim, Harry and myself. It seemed as if 
all had been as suddenly plunged into oblivion as I, except 
the mate. Bob and Bump, and the mate and Bob now gave us 
the best account of the accident that they could. The Swal- 
low struck rocks in the great shoals along the coast of Wales* 
We had missed our course slightly and so were about the cen- 
ter of the group, when we struck the Black Rock and hence 
were near the little island that stands there, sometimes many 
feet abo.ve the sea — at low tide — and almost submerged when 
the tide is high. This island is only about an eighth of a mile 
long, and not quite so wide. The ship had keeled toward the 
island and we had been thrown that way. Only a part of the 
foremast and a few tattered sails could be found. The mate 


160 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


and Bob were considerably shaken up and the mate’s broken 
leg was very painful; however, they were both conscious. 
Bump alone seemed active and perfectly himself. The ship 
hung at her head as she struck the third time and seemed 
fastened to the rocks so that for some time she remained with 
her head out of water. Bump worked bravely to get his un- 



DESPAIR. 


conscious shipmates safely to the little island. As I was by 
him at the wheel, I must have been the first whom he assisted. 
No one had seen the second mate after she struck. He must 
have been swept overboard at once. And Bump? Nobody 
knew how he was hurt at last. Perhaps — when after a few 
struggles the Swallow keeled over, slid off the rock and went 
suddenly down — perhaps poor Bump received his death blow 
then. We turned and looked at him as he lay cold and mo- 
tionless on the shore, the first real kind, tender look we had 
ever given him. I felt a great desire to do something for 
him, for Bump had most likely saved my life. We went once 
more to look for the rest and found Toggy, badly hurt. We 
placed him by the captain and the mate, and so we were all 
there except the second mate and Bump, who lay dead a little 
ways from us. 

We waited patiently, glad that at least our lives were spared. 
About eleven o’clock a coal steamer passed us closely. We 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


161 


^aved our coats or any garments that were readily taken off. 
They saw us, stopped, then turned and came slowly toward 
us. When within half a mile they lowered a boat. It was 
dangerous work to come after us among the breakers, but the 
sea was not high, the wind was very light and in half an hour 
more we were safe on board the steamer. They even brought 
the body of Bump. That evening, about seven o’clock, we 
were landed at Milford. We had the best attention the little 
town afforded, several doctors came at once and attended to 
the wounded. After a good night’s rest, I felt much better 
and was able next morning to walk about slowly with the aid 
of a stick; so was Jim. Bob was hurt least of all. He fell 
into the water, he said, and swam desperately until his strength 
gave out and he sunk until his feet touched the bottom and 
he found the water only waist deep and so waded out and fell 
exhausted and nearly scared to death, on the rocks. 

Toggy, poor fellow, got worse. The captain and the mate 
were carried to the depot and went back to Liverpool. Three 
days later, Harry, Bob, Jim and myself took the train for 
Swansea, according to the order of the captain, to wait there 
until we received further instructions. Our doctor and Tog- 
gy remained in the care of the people of Milford. Harry was 
getting well. He had lost most of the teeth on the right side, 
but otherwise was not scarred. A week later, the captain 
sent our discharge papers and five pounds for each man and 
we were free once more, after the quickest and most hazard- 
ous voyage we ever made, having been on board the Swallow 
less than three days. We spent another week most pleasantly 
in Swansea. We were important characters here, interviewed 
by the city oflicials, newspaper reporters and a number of 
less interesting persons. As Swansea has but little of inter- 
est to my reader. I’ll hasten on. Harry and I and also Jim 
shipped in the bark, Capricorn, bound for Valparaiso, so we 
were to have another voyage around Cape Horn, taking a cargo 
of coal and bringing back a load of copper. As this chapter 
is long enough, we will take our start in the next chapter. 


162 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE CAPRICORN. 

The Capricorn belonged to a line of vessels sailing regularly 
to Valparaiso, bringing back copper, or copper ore to supply 
the great rolling mills of Swansea. We had a kind of family 
crew. Captain Clark had his wife and little three year old 
daughter, Maggie, along with him. The mate, Mr. Thomas, 
had, nearly all his life, sailed in this line of ships. Mr. Marsh, 
the second mate, was the son of one of the leading capitalists 
in the company which owned both the ships and the mills. 
The steward had once been a prominent man both in politics 
and business, but had gone astray and, though morally a 
wreck, retained much of his mental power and was in some 
respects one of the most brilliant men I ever met. The doc- 
tor was a man of fifty, a man who had tried a great many 
things in life, a man of great expectations that were never 
realized. He had been educated for the clergy, had also 
studied law, medicine, politics, civil engineering, navigation 
and — cooking. A man who regarded himself as far above the 
flunky, who, in return, looked down on the poor, disappointed 
doctor. Jimmie, the cabin boy, came from a good family in 
Swansea; as we had two of the same name, we called him 
Little Jim and the ordinary seaman, who came with Harry 
and I, Big Jim. Chips, the carpenter, was making his first 
voyage to sea and was a fine mechanic, but no sailor. Ten 
seamen, nearly all of them Swansea boys, with Big Jim and 
myself as ordinary seamen, made up the crew. 

It was the last of February, as we hove anchor amid cheers 
from the wharf, a half mile distant, and from the numerous 
boats around us in the water, we left the harbor. We made 
sail at once and by the time we had all our canvas spread, the 
tow boat slacked up, came alongside and with another rous- 
ing “Three cheers for Swansea,’’ dropped astern and we sailed 
away. 

At eight bells the watches were picked. I hoped to be in 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


163 


the port watch, for a chaDge, but was disappointed. How- 
ever, I was gratified to find that Harry, too, was in the second 
mate's watch. There is just a little difference between the 
watches — a kind of unwritten law that promotion is tendered 
to a man in the port watch (mate’s watch). Besides, the 
work of the port watch is generally lighter. They have es- 
pecial charge of the foremast, the forecastle and head gear, 
bowsprit and jib boom, while the starboard watch looks 
after the main and mizzenmasts, main and quarter decks wdth 
all that belongs to these parts of the ship above and below 
deck. The weather was unusually fine for the last of February 
and by the first of March we caught the trade wind and under 
full sail could have kept up with any steamer. Captain Clark 
was a typical seaman. He loved his ship next to his wife and 
child. He loved the ocean and preferred it to any land. We 
had the best crew I ever saw, and altogether we could handle 
the Capricorn like a top. 

On the second Sunday we were at sea, Mrs. Clark, the cap- 
tain’s wife, called us all aft as soon as breakfast was over. 
“You sit down too,” she said to the captain, “I’ll take 
charge of the deck for half an hour or so.” And she did. 
Thus all seated, most of us squatting down on deck, she 
opened a trunk-like box which flunky had brought up out of 
the cabin, took out an English Episcopal prayer book and 
read a morning service: then distributed some gospel hymn 
books and we sang several songs. “Suppose we organize a 
Sunday reading circle,” she said pleasantly, and pointing to 
the box continued, “Here are some nice books. We can read 
them together and discuss such questions as may be sug- 
gested.” Of course we all agreed, very willingly. “ Here,” 
she said, as she took a volume and held it up, “is not a 
Bible, but the Story of the Bible, and we will read two 
or three chapters every Sunday morning.” With that she 
began to read with a clear, sweet voice, and we listened with 
undivided attention to the first two chapters. “ Please, 
ma’am, read some more if you like,” said one of the men. 
“ No,” she answered, the watch must go below now and rest. 
I shall never keep you later than nine o’clock, but you may 
have any of these books and read them for yourselves if you 


164 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


like. This book, however,’’ again holding up the Story of 
the Bible, “we’ll read and discuss in our circle. Now,” she 
said to the captain, “ I turn the Capricorn over to you again.” 
With that we were dismissed. 

Jack, Dye, Bob, Smith, Harry and I made up the men of 
the starboard watch. Smith being at the wheel. “Can you 
read?” asked Jack, as we came forward. “Yes,” I said; we 
had both taken a book. “Well,” he continued, “I can’t, and 
I want 3"ou to read this book for me, what is it about?” “It 
is Dickens’ ‘Child’s History of England,’ ” I replied. “Oh, 
psha! I ain’t no child. What kind of a book have you got ? ” 
“ A Story of Adventure,” I said. “ That’s better,” replied 
Jack; “let’s swap.” By that time we had reached the for- 
ward part of the ship, and Harry interrupted our trade by 
saying to me, “I’ll tell you what let’s do. You read and 
we’ll all listen.” “Yes,” said Dye, who now came up to us 
and, like Jack, could neither read nor write. So we all gath- 
ered on the fore hatch and I read nearly half the book by din- 
ner time. It was a story of travel in India, with a good moral 
and religious tone. We finished that book and another be- 
fore the next Sunday. Thus started a most pleasant voyage. 

There is an idea that sailors are all toughs; an ungodly, 
cursing, wicked class of men. This is only partly true. Some 
of the most consecrated Christian men I ever knew, I have 
met as shipmates; and sometimes — not often, perhaps — but 
sometimes a real moral and religious sentiment pervades an 
entire ship’s crew. This was true of the crew in the Capri- 
corn. Dye was the hardest case among us. He cursed hab- 
itually — and Jack? well, he tried hard to quit but forgot him- 
self quite often, especially if he was with Dye. We were all 
much benefitted by the interest Mrs. Clark took in every man 
on board. 

We were nearing the equator now and the weather was 
growing warmer every day. We had three or four hard days’ 
work shifting sails — taking down the sails we were using and 
bending our fine weather suit. Like most deep water vessels 
(ships going around Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope), 
the Capricorn carried three full suits of sails. We were 
nearly to the line, when one morning the captain showed us 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


165 


somethiug that looked like a floating barrel. “Its a turtle,” 
said Mr. Thomas. “Get the spy-glass, quick,” said the cap- 
tain to flunky, and as he looked he found the mate was right. 
“Get out the dingy and take two men and get him,” said the 
captain to Bob, an ex-fisherman. The boat was soon lowered 
and the men pulled away. Harry and Dye pulled while Bob 
steered. We watched them creep slowly toward their object, 
now they backed the boat, Bob grabbed the thing and we could 
plainly see them as the three men dragged it into the boat. 
“Luff,” said the captain to me at the wheel, “and keep her 
in the wind so we will not run away from them too far.” The 
sails flapped in the wind; the breeze was light and we made 
only about four or five knots, and now nearly stopped. The 
men in the boat pulled hard, the light boat danced over the 
waves like a feather. Full half an hour elapsed before they 
came alongside, then we hoisted them up and the turtle was 
placed on its back down on deck. It measured nearly four 
feet in length and three feet broad, the largest turtle I ever 
saw. These sea turtles are good to eat, and for two days we 
feasted on fresh meat. They die hard and sloAvly. Flunky 
chopped its head o:ff about eleven o’clock in the morning; at 
six o’clock in the evening I swept down the main deck and 
found the head of the turtle where it had rolled under a coil 
of rope, and been overlooked in cleaning the deck after the 
turtle was cut up. I gave it a kick and the mouth, like the 
bill of an immense eagle, opened slowly and wide. I put the 
end of a rope into its mouth and slowly the muscles con- 
tracted and bit the rope in two. “That head don’t die till the 
sun goes down,” said Bob, and he really believed it. “You 
may catch one of these sea turtles early in the morning, cut 
him all to pieces and every piece, unless it is cooked, will 
have life in it till the sun goes down.” “Suppose the sun 
don’t go down?” queried little Jim, who evidently was doubt- 
ful. “Then he’ll bite your head off,” retorted Bob. 

We crossed the line without being retarded by a calm. 
How well Harry and I remembered theFetisch, where, we first 
met, and our hard times oif Cape Horn and our suffering while 
becalmed under the equator. We’ll have better times this 
voyage, he said cheerfully; “it will be in the early fall w^hen 


166 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


we round the cape and you will see some as pretty sea as you 
ever saw in your life.” 

We caught the south-east trade wind after a few days of 
baffling and sped along toward Cape Horn. It was the first 
week in April when flunky told us that next Saturday would 
be Mrs. Clark’s birthday. “Boys,” said the second mate as 
we were all gathered on the fore hatch, our favorite resort, 
“Boys, let’s have a regular celebration!” “Yes,” said Harry, 
who was more imbued with the United States sentiment than 
that of his sovereign Queen, “let’s have a Fourth of July 
celebration.” “I’ll tell you what let’s do,” broke in Bob, 
“let’s have a ball.” “A ball of what?” asked Jack. “Why 
a dance ball,” replied Bob knowingly. So we appointed the 
second mate, a fine young man and much thought of, together 
with Harry and Bob as committee on arrangements. In a 
few days quite an extensive program had been quietly 
prepared. Neither the captain nor Mrs. Clark knew anything 
about it. 

The great day dawned at last. When the captain came on 
deck about seven o’clock, he told Mr. Thomas to knock off for 
the day. He too had a surprise for us in the way of a cele- 
bration dinner which we owed to Mrs. Clark and flunky 
rather than to the captain. After breakfast we all put on 
our store clothes, borrowed a box of blacking from chips 
and shined our shoes and quietly rehearsed for our program 
to commence at six o’clock. We had made four dresses out of 
light canvas, the skirts being held in position by large hoops, 
painted some strips of cloth for ribbons, and had everything 
ready for the ball before dinner. I had bought a concertina 
in Swansea and had learned to play it fairly well by this time- 
Little Jim had a tin whistle which he played with the skill of 
an artist; fortunately it was in tune with my instrument. 
Harry had made a bass drum out of a flour barrel like the one 
chips had on the Fetisch and had added to this a snare drum 
made out of a cheese box, which was operated by Dye. And 
so our Ijand was ready. 

We had a splendid dinner, a big three story sea pie made 
out of canned mutton, and two big cakes made by Mrs. 
Clark’s own hands and brought forward one at a time by 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


167 


little Maggie, the pet of all, a cake for each watch. To this 
the captain had added two bottles of wine, one for each watch. 
When dinner was over there was enough left for a good 
supper. The afternoon was spent quietly. At the appointed 
hour we met en masse on the quarter deck and tendered our 
congratulations, Harry making the speech and formally 
inviting the captain, and his lady and little daughter to our 
celebration. At three bells the real festivities began. Four 
of the men were attired in female costumes flaunting with gay 
ribbons, and on their heads wigs made of oakum with long 
plaits hanging down behind, their four partners dressed in 



THE CELEBRATION. 


shore clothes with stiff shirts and stove pipe hats, manu- 
factured by the second mate out of stiff tarred canvas. We 
formed our procession. The second mate, attired in a kind of 
gown with a crown on his head, and a hand spike as a 
marshal’s staff, led the way. Then came the band, after 
which came the four dance couples. We marched along the 
lee side of the main deck and up on the* quarter deck, around 



168 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


by the binnacle, and forward on the weather side, and down on 
the main deck again, stopping at the fore hatch, which served 
as the floor. The captain and family had a seat of honor. 
When all were seated the program began: 

1. Harry, song and dance. 

2. Jack and Tom, boxing match. 

3. Big Jim and Little Jim, wrestling. 

4. Piece by the band. 

5. The ball. 

1 was leader of the band, the first band I ever led, and our 
playing was only excelled by the dancing. We laughed and 
sang, and talked until 9 o’clock, when the captain called us to- 
order; the watch was sent below, and the watch on deck 
resumed their usual duties. So ended our great celebration 
in honor of^Mrs. Clark’s birthday. We kept our dresses,, 
and had our dance balls nearly every evening during the dog 
watch. 

One Saturday evening as Dye was clearing the fore hatch 
for our evening frolic, the tarpaulin with which the hatch 
was covered came loose at one corner. “Come here quick,”" 
said Dye to several of us who were at work clearing the deck. 
Harry and Jack went to him, stooped down, quickly tore off 
the covering and opened the hatch, when a dark cloud of 
smoke issued out of the ship’s hold. “Call the watch,” said 
Harry to Dye, while he himself ran aft and called loudly, fire ! 
fire! The second mate started to call the captain, but he had 
heard Harry’s cry, and came running up on deck bareheaded, 
and all together hastened forward. The mate awakened by 
Mrs. Clark, came half dressed; then the steward, Mrs. Clark 
and Jimmie, carrying little Maggie in his arms, all rushed to 
the scene at the fore hatch. The order, all hands on deck, 
was superfluous, for all hands were there. Seamen can 
remain calm during the most terrific storms, and pass 
through the most dangerous crisis, without apparent excite- 
ment, but the cry of fire strikes terror to the bravest heart. 

Pale and excited, the whole crew stood for a moment 
gathered around the fore hatch, and watched the smoke as it 
curled out of the ship’s hold. “Open the main and after 
hatch quick,” said the captain, and pulling off his coat led 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


169 


the work. The long boat was lashed on the main hatch and 
it was no small task to move it, without rigging some kind of 
hoisting gear, but as if imbued with superhuman strength, 
we prized the heavy boat off the hatch by means of hand 
spikes and crow bars, tore the covering off, opened the hatch, 
and another dense cloud of smoke rolled upwards, and was 
blown through the rigging aloft. The after hatch, smaller 
than the fore and main, was quickly opened, and we found 
much less smoke. 

“Start the pumps and pour water into the hold,” said the 
the captain, and every man helped. The main pump, with a 
sucker over the lee side, was started first. The fore pumps, 
not having been used during this voyage, took some tirtie in 
getting started. Then the men who could not help at the 
pumps got the buckets and drew water from over the side, all 
anxious to help and all badly scared. “Stop the buckets,” 
said the captain after a half hour. “We can’t stand this long 
and will perhaps have to keep the pumps going all night.” 
Then arranging the men into thiee gangs, the pumps were 
continued, relieving a gang every fifteen minutes and getting 
thirty minutes of rest. While resting, we dug down into the 
coal eight or ten feet, but could not see or even get near the 
fire. All night we pumped. By four o’clock Sunday morn- 
ing we had four feet of water in the hold. “Take off the 
suckers,” said the captain, “and use the bilge water.” No- 
body on board, except little Maggie, had slept a wink during 
the night. 

As the sun rose, smoke still oozed up out of the coal, but in 
less volume than when we first opened the hatches. All day 
Sunday we pumped and dug down into the coal at different 
places, but could not get near the fire. There was danger of 
explosion, but we feared most that the fire would burn against 
the bottom or side of the ship and then burn through. Sun- 
day night and all day Monday, and still the smoke continued, 
until Tuesday evening, when it almost stopped. We kept 
only the main pump going during Tuesday night, but Wednes- 
day morning there was more smoke again, so we started both 
pumps, and not till Friday did the smoke cease entirely. Even 
after that we could smell the fire. It was a fearful week and 


170 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


on the following Sunday we had a full attendance when our 
circle gathered on the quarter deck for morning service, and 
Mrs. Clark read the chapters with more than usual interest. 

She also read a thanksgiving service out of the prayer book 
and talked to us about the goodness of God. 

The weather was beautiful, cold and clear, and the days 
were getting as long as the nights were when we rounded the 
cape in the Fetisch. It was about the middle of April when 
we sighted Cape Blanco, on the coast of Patagonia. We al- 
tered our course slightly and sailed along the coast. The 
passing panorama was beautiful, the snow capped hills and 
mountains, with here and there a patch of dark colored low 
land. For a day (that means twenty hours) we enjoyed the 
passing scenes; then we sighted land straight ahead of us, 
and as we approached it we entered the narrow strait between 
Staten Island and Fireland. Staten Island rose to our left, 
steep and high, like a giant clad in black and bearing upon 
his head a crown of purest white, the jewels of which glis- 
tened in the sunlight and threw a profusion of golden rays 
over our ship. 

“Look, look, what’s that?” cried the doctor, pointing to 
something out on the water. The captain, with the aid of a 
spyglass, discovered some Patagonians fishing on a kind of 
raft, rather than a boat. “These are savages,” declared the 
doctor, “and the worst pirates in the world. We’d better 
get something to fight with.” “There’s another,” said the 
second mate, “and another.” Sure enough, we could now 
plainly see three rafts, each carrying a number of men. It 
was serious. The captain and mate brought out five or six 
rifles and some ammunition, then chips got out his axes and 
hatchets, and we were soon all armed and arrayed on the 
weather side, from which they were coming toward lis. They 
were getting close to us, called to us loudly and gestured 
wildly, each of them having a long pole or spear. “Come and 
help me, quick,” said the doctor to the second mate, and they 
together brought a large boiler full of boiling water, with a 
long-handled dipper and some tin cups. “This beats shooting 
all to smash,” said the doctor, “when they attempt to board 
us, pour it on them and they’ll let go.” They came along- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


171 


side. We were lying flat on deck and heard them talking in 
confusion. Then the captain and the mate burst out laugh- 
ing. “Get up, boys,” said the former, “get up and let’s get 
out some meat, and we’ll exchange it for some fine fish.” 
Our scare had been needless. These Patagonian Indians 
were only fishing, though the time had been, the captain told 
us, when these men would come off and rob vessels. We 
gave them a half barrel of salt pork, for which we got three 
flour barrels full of fine fish. We passed out of the strait 
into the broad Pacific Ocean and ran down the coast of Pata- 
gonia. The weather was still beautiful. “I’m so glad I 
came,” said Mrs. Clark, one evening, “I have always had 
such a dread of Cape Horn, and now I hardly believe your 
awful stories about this beautiful cape.” It did not look like 
the same part of the world where we had been in the Fetisch. 
It was now almost perpetual day, and though cold yet we in 
no way suffered. Soon we reached the coast of Chili, the 
days gradually grew shorter, the weather became warmer and 
on the first of May we dropped our anchor in the harbor of 
"Valparaiso. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE ANGEL OF DEATH. 

The captain had promised us that if we got our vessel 
moored we might have liberty for the rest of the day. We 
had worked till about nine o’clock and now were pulling 
ashore to enjoy our liberty. We landed on the same old wharf 
from which Herman, Robert and I had departed more than 
two years ago. How my heart beat as we walked up the same 
old steps and onto the wharf— and there lay the same old 
boiler. I had told Harry about our hiding in it, and now had 
to tell the story over again to the rest of the boys. We stop- 
ped and looked at it for some time, then walked off the wharf 
and up town. We had promised Mrs. Clark that we would 
not get drunk, but in spite of the pledge, about the first stop 


172 


THE STOEY OF THE SEAS. 


we made was at a saloon. Harry and I had planned to leave 
the crowd, at least until evening, and visit the old woman 
with whom 1 had boarded and who had treated Kobert, Her- 
man and I so kindly. The rest of our shipmates would not 
consent and so we staid together. Although Sunday, there 
was nothing to remind us of the sacredness of the day, for all 
the stores were open. 

Summer was reigning here in all her glory. Trees and grass 
were green and flowers bloomed in windows and front yards. 
The churches were decorated with wreathes and garlands^ 
and everything appeared to us like a May day picnic. We 
agreed to stay all together and so walked slowly up the street. 
“There’s the place,” I said, as I recognized the house, let’s 
all take dinner there.” There were ten of us, two having 
to stay aboard to watch. Yes, it was the same motherly wo- 
man, her hair a little more sprinkled with white, the furrows 
in her cheeks a little deeper, but otherwise the same. She 
even seemed to wear the same old dress, plain, neat and clean, 
but much worn. There was nobody in the little sitting room 
when we entered and when she came in she seemed somewhat 
perplexed. “Don’t you know me?” I asked, and then re- 
called to her mind the three boys who came to her now more 
than two years ago, and her kindness to them. After a mo- 
ment’s thought she remembered, took my hand and expressed 
her pleasure. “I say, old lady,” said Harry, in his blunt but 
kind way, “can you get us a good dinner? Here are ten of 
us.” “Yes,” she replied, “me be glad to make you dinner, 
me keep boarding house.” “All right,” said Harry, “you set 
us up the best dinner you can and we’ll pay whatever you 
ask. The good woman seemed so glad that she hardly knew 
what to do. 

I slipped out to ask if her boy had come back home. 

“No,” she said, sadly, “my boy never come back.” Then 
wiping her eyes, she continued, “the ship come back, but my 
boy no come. He gone to Australia. He write me a letter. 
He say he come back by and by.” I told her that 1 appre- 
ciated her kindness to me and my companions, and also told 
her that I had seen my mother. She did not seem to clearly 
understand me, but went on with her preparations for our 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


173 


dinner. It was a grand dinner, and having lived on yellow 
soup for nearly three months we heartily enjoyed the excel- 
lent repast. We went back for supper; that is. four of us 
went, but paid for ten as we had engaged it and she had made 
elaborate preparations. As I bade her good-bye again she 
said, holding my hand and kissing it several times, “me poor 
now, no boarders. God good to me. He send you and you 
pay me money, big heap of money. You pay too much.” The 
boys were leaving now and I broke off the conversation with 
another good-bye. 

We spent the evening knocking round; visited some of the 
catholic churches, which were beautifully decorated but 
seemed to have no other services, then visited some singing 
and dance houses where they did have some other services, 
and about eleven o’clock wended our way back to the wharf, 
the gates on this night being left open till twelve o’clock. So 
we got back on board, all sober — except seven of our ship- 
mates, who forgot. 

While discharging our coal we found a cavity nearly twelve 
feet square where the coal had burned to cinders, and some 
even to ashes. The fire had been almost exactly in the cen- 
ter of the cargo and probably, as the mate suggested, two 
large lumps of coal had rubbed together with the rolling of 
the vessel, until friction caused combustion; hence the fire. 
As soon as our coal was all out we took in ballast, and just 
two weeks after our arrival we hove anchor and sailed up the 
coast for Lota. The wind was against us and it took us nearly 
three weeks. Here we had two days’ hard work “catching” 
fifteen miles up the river. Lota is a small town of some 
three thousand inhabitants, who are mostly employed in the 
great copper furnace. Large copper mines are adjacent to 
this place. The ore is shipped by railroad, and is here 
melted into bars of two hundred and fifty pounds each and in 
that form carried to England on shipboard. The copper is 
diflScult to handle by the uninitiated. A bar is too heavy for 
two men to carry and too small for three men to get a good 
hold; and the dust is poisonous, making painful sores where 
the skin is broken, but is most painful when it gets into the 
eyes. We were truly glad when we learned that a gang of 


174 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


stevedores were to load the ship, and we had but little to do 
with handling the copper. We had some pleasant days in 
Lota, and about the middle of June, 1877, we once more set 
sail, homeward bound for Swansea. 

With a fine breeze and a fair wind we sailed up the coast of 
Chili and Patagonia. The weather was somewhat colder as 
we approached the cape. The wind and the sea were too 
heavy to pass through the strait again and so we had to sail 
around. The captain had promised Mrs. Clark to sight the 
cape and that she should have a good view of it. Mrs. 
Clark was not in good health and had not been on deck but 
once or twice since leaving Lota, and then she came up late 
in the day. The days were growing shorter now, as winter 
was rapidly drawing on, and we missed the long days with the 
soft twilight which lasted through the night when we passed 
through the strait some six weeks before. 

“We ought to sight the cape this evening,’’ said the cap- 
tain one morning, as he paced the deck restlessly. “I hope,”" 
replied the mate, “that the weather won’t get ugly.” The 
wind had risen considerably during the night, and we were 
running hard before it with only the royals, small jibs and 
stay sails taken in. The sea ran high but was smooth. The 
long, mountainous waves presented a magnificent sight that 
was even increased in grandeur when, in the afternoon, we 
sighted a big ship outward bound and laying to. She was 
some two miles from us. We could now form some idea as 
to how high the sea really ran. Now the great ship was in 
full view, then falling into the trough, between two waves, it 
looked as if she sank down, down, till all was out of sight, 
then the tips of her masts came up again, swaying backward 
and forward ; for some time we could only see her masts and 
the British ensign that fluttered from her gaff, until both ves- 
sels rising to the top of a wave at the same time, we had again 
a full view of the ship. Mrs. Clark had come up on deck, 
warmly wrapped in shawls and blankets. She remained on 
deck and her wish was gratified when we plainly sighted Cape 
Horn, a barren rock, without even a lighthouse, uninhabited 
and desolate, extending its rugged peak high above the roll- 
ing waves. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


175 


The wind still increased and as soon as we had passed the 
cape the captain ordered the top-gallant sails furled. It took 
all hands to do it. That done, four bells struck and we were 
getting ready for supper when the captain called out: “Take 
in your main-topmast staysail.” We hauled the sail down, 
and as one man can easily manage it Dye ran aloft to stow it, 
and the rest of us went to supper. We had hardly gotten 
into the forecastle when we heard the cry, “man overboard, 
do^^n your helm!” shouted by the second mate, and as we 
rushed on deck again the great sails flapped wildly and the 
masts trembled as the head of the ship swung into the wind, 
and for a moment we were confused. The Capricorn sunk 
into the trough between two heavy seas and the next wave 
completely buried us under an avalanche of water; but 
bravely she raised her head out of the water, and we now 
braced up the yards sharp and she slowly came to the wind. 
Poor unfortunate Dye was lost. The doctor heard him cry 
as he fell, and the second mate saw him as he struck the 
water, but we were running some twelve or fourteen knots 
and by the time the vessel came to, we must have been sev- 
eral miles away. To look for him was hopeless, besides we 
were all in great danger. Mrs. Clark had gone below just as 
we took in the top-gallant sails, and when Dye fell overboard 
she was sitting at the table in the cabin, waiting for supper. 
When the second mate ordered “down the wheel,” a great 
and almost unpardonable mistake in such a sea, the vessel 
was swamped for a moment, and the cabin filled with water 
rushing in through the skylight and down the cabin steps. 
Mrs. Clark and little Maggie were both badly huit and came 
very near drowning in the cabin. 

Everything was safe by seven o’clock and we went to our 
suppers— without Dye. An hour ago he was with us, a young 
man twenty-four years old, full of life and hope: then, with- 
out a word of warning, in a moment, as he perhaps carelessly 
lost his hold or risked too much, was hurled into the ocean 
and into eternity. We were still talking about him when the 
doctor came into the forecastle and told us that Mrs. Clark 
was seriously hurt and very sick. Although it was starboard 
watch below, did not lie down but staid up on deck anx- 


176 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


iously awaiting the tidings from the cabin sent up by Little 
Jim. About eleven o’clock flunky came and told us “Mrs. 
Clark is better, we hope. The captain says you had better all 
rest, for we may have some bad weather to-morrow. You 
can all go to sleep except a man at the wheel and one at the 
lookout.” We all lay down and most of us went to sleep. 
I had just fallen asleep when eight bells struck and it was my 
turn at the wheel. The second mate, poor fellow, had paced 
the deck since the dog watch, gladly leaving the mate and 
flunky to devote their time to helping the captain. The doc- 
tor, too, staid in the galley keeping hot water and preparing 
things as he was directed. They all worked. At six o’clock 
in the morning we learned that little Maggie, who now came 
on deck with Jimmie, had not been much hurt, but that Mrs. 
Clark was no better. 

Harry and I were busy on the quarter deck, cleaning the 
skylight windows and the brass about the deck; when just 
as six bells were struck (seven o’clock), the mate came out of 
the. cabin, sat down on the lee steps and wept like a child. 
He was a strong, brave man, and ordinarily had seemed to 
have no emotion. Harry went to him and asked gently, “Mr. 
Thomas, how is Mrs. Clark, now?” The mate cried aloud as 
he said: “Oh, my God! she is dead.” 

We left the quarter deck. The second mate and several 
other men had heard the mate and stopped work. All the 
men gathered on the fore hatch, sat down and wept. Even 
the wind, as it piped through the rigging, and the sea, with 
its deep toned murmur, joined in a sad requiem for the be- 
loved dead. During the day, chips, with the help of as many 
men as he could use, made a coffin of two-inch oak planks, 
lining it with three layers of tarred canvas. At noon the 
mate told us to come and see her if we wished. As we en- 
tered the cabin — it seemed a sacred place now — the body of 
our friend lay upon the table. She was dressed in the plain 
black dress which she had usually worn at our Sunday read- 
ing circle, and looked as if only asleep. What otherwise 
would have looked like a group of rough, hardened seamen, 
now gathered around the table, tenderly touching her shroud 
and weeping aloud. Then four men carried the body up on 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


177 


deck and gently placed it in the coffin, putting the new-born 
babe in her arms ; then the coffin was closed, covered with 
three layers of tarred canvas around the outside, and 
placed in the fore hold where we left it until we should reach 
Swansea. 

The gale, which had steadily increased for three days, and 
looked so threatening all during that fatal night and the 
morning of the following day, abated as if in sympathy with 
us in our sorrow. The wind hauled to the east, and by even- 
ing we took the reefs out of our top sails, and before night 
came again we set our top gallant sails, jibs and stay sails, and 
made good time as we ran down the coast of Patagonia in the 
Atlantic; another sudden storm, a “pampero,” overtook us 
while abreast of the La Plata, carrying away our fore-top- 
gallant mast and jib boom. Then we caught the trade winds 
and ran down our latitudes with the speed of a fast steamer. 
We crossed the line with a good breeze. 

As we ran up the north-east trade wind one night during 
the middle watch (12 to 4 a. m.). Smith and I were standing 
looking over the weather bow, and talking over things that had 
happened. Smith was a Norwegian, but had come to England 
when a boy, and had sailed in this line of Swansea copper 
ships for ten years. We stood just forward of the fore hatch, 
which was left open when the weather was fair to let air pass 
into the hold, and keep the copper from sweating. The 
coffin stood just under the open hatch, and could be seen in 
passing. We had gotten used to it, and paid but little atten- 
tion to it, though we often talked about how we missed her, 
who now lay dead in that heavy coffin. It was a beautiful 
night, the moon shed its full light upon the boundless mass 
of water, the sky was clear, and the reflected stars danced 
upon the waves. Smith suddenly started, and in his fright 
grabbed me by the shoulders. As Hooked toward the hatch, 
I saw an apparition with a long, flowing white robe, that 
fluttered in the wind. The ghost raised both its arms above 
its head, and seemed about to speak, when I pulled out the 
iron belaying pin, upon which my hand rested, and with 
almost unnatural force and precision, threw it straight into 
the face of the specter, who staggered, toppled over into the 


178 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


hatch, and with a ghostlike sound, fell heavily upon the coffin 
below. Smith and I were both frightened. Jack, who was- 
on the lookout, had seen it all and now called Bob, who lajr 
asleep under the forecastle head. Harry was at the wheel. 
I hardly knew what I had done, it came about so quickly. 

All was silent in the hatch, and for a while none of us- 
dared to look down. At last Bob looked into the hatch, but 
could see nothing. “Oh, you fellows have been dreaming, 
he said laughingl}", but as we assured him of the facts, he 
went down into the forehold, followed by Jack and Smithy 
while I took the lookout. Directly Bob called me. “Come 
and help us,” he said, “its the second mate.” By means of 
a rope and some hard work, we got him up on deck, still 
wrapped in the white boat sail, which had been aired and 
mended during the day, and which looked like a sheet. Mr. 
Marsh’s face was covered with blood, and he looked frightful 
as he lay unconscious on deck, the moon shedding its pale 
light upon him. We took off the sheet and bathed his face. 
He breathed with difficulty, and several times, there was a 
gurgling sound in his throat, as if he were choking. “Call 
the doctor,” suggested Smith. I did so, and with his help,, 
we carried the second mate on the quarter deck. How we 
dreaded to call the captain. We did not know what to do, 
and finally decided to call the mate, and consult him first. 
When Mr. Thomas came on deck, he seemed much grieved 
and at first censured me, but when we told him the whole 
story, and how I had thrown the pin almost unconsciously, 
he did not seem to blame me, and said, “I’m sorry this- 
happened. The whole thing was a sad mistake.” The mate 
thought it best not to tell the captain, and when the captain 
came on deck, Mr. Thomas told him that “the second mate 
fell and hurt himself.” For three days Mr. Marsh’s life 
huDg on a thread, but he got better, and in a week came up 
on deck, and resumed his regular watch, which Captain Clark 
himself had taken during the week. Mr. Marsh never said a 
word about the accident. His face was slightly disfigured, 
the pin which I threw at him having broken his nose, and 
he will carry the mark as long as he lives. 

After a passage of sixty-four days, we reached Swansea* 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


179 


having made the fastest trip ever made by any vessel of that 
line, and having beaten by four days a Liverpool steamer, 
which left Lota two days before we did, and upon which 
Captain Clark had tried to persuade Mrs. Clark to take 
passage home. 

Our arrival, bringing the sad news, cast a cloud of sadness 
over the entire city. The next day after our arrival was the 
funeral. The coffin was placed on a steamboat, and 
together with all the crew landed at the wharf, where we were 
met by a large crowd of people, among whom were Dye’s 
father and mother. Dye was their only son, the hope and 
stay of their old age. May they look to Him, who said, “and 
even to your old age, I am He, and even to hoary hairs will I 
carry you. I have made and I will bear, even I will carry 
and will deliver you.” The hearse slowly led the way, and 
our crew followed and served as pall bearers, then came a long 
line of carriages, and an immense throng of people followed 
on foot. A service was held in the chapel at the cemetery, 
and we placed her whom we loved so tenderly, in her last, 
long resting place, to await the glorious resurrection. 

Keturning on board, we found that we were to leave again 
the next morning and go to Havre, France, whence our cargo 
had been sold. Swansea did not look to us like the same 
place, nor the , Capricorn like the same ship in which we sailed 
away seven months before. Then, all was so bright and hap- 
py, now all was so sad and everything in mourning. Three 
days more brought us to Havre, where we were at once paid 
off. Harry and I decided to go to Glasgow and ship; and so 
bidding our shipmates good-bye, we left on a steamer for Ply- 
mouth — thence to London, where we stayed two days, and left 
by train for Glasgow and again put up at Mother Murphy’s. 
I don’t know why Harry was so anxious to get back to Glas- 
gow, but Dora seemed mighty glad to see him. We found 
several letters waiting for us. I eagerly read a long, sweet 
letter from mother. All were well and urged me to come 
back home. I had hoped to find a letter from Miss Sophia, 
but was disappointed ; and Miss Leta, the sweetheart of my 
boyhood, was married and I was left; but I was there all the 
same. Miss Dora had a cousin living up town. Miss Lizzie 


180 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


; and so, with our quartette, we spent two of the most 

pleasant weeks I ever spent during my sailor’s career. 

One evening Harry got a letter, which had been forwarded 
from Swansea. He seemed troubled and sad, after reading it 
over several times. “Harry,” I said to him, “you have some 
sad news. You stood by me when I was in trouble, and now 
if you are sad or in any way troubled, I want to comfort you 
if I can.” “You can’t help me Fred, I wish you could,” he 
said and then laid down across the bed. I left the room and 
went down stairs into the sitting room. It was near supper 
time when I went back to our room to go with Harry to sup- 
per. He was gone. Supper over, seven o’clock came, still 
Harry had not returned. It was nearly nine o’clock when he 
came in, dressed in his shore clothes and carrying in his hand 
a large, new valise. He went to the dining room and paid 
Mother Murphy, then came back and asked me to come with 
him. “Fred,” he said, as we came out on the street, “I must 
leave you to-night. I hope we may meet again, but I can’t 
tell when or where.” “But Harry,” I said, much troubled, 
“let me go with you, don’t let us separate.” “No,” he said) 
“I must go home. I am going to take the train for Liverpool 
and day after to-morrow I leave Liverpool for Halifax. Don’t 
ask me any questions. Something has gone wrong at home 
and I must go at once.” 

It was train time when we got to the depot. We stood for 
some time clasping both each other’s hands, then with a sim- 
ple “Good-bye, shipmate,” he entered the coach and the train 
rolled away. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE ROANOKE. 

What a life is this! especially a sailor’s life. Jack Tar is 
a restless creature, content only on board of a ship and out 
on the broad ocean. A ship is the most attractive, the most 
congenial thing on earth. It fascinates him, it becomes his 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


181 


companioD. “We become a part of all we have seen,” is 
emphatically true of the average sailor, and his ship becomes 
a part of himself, and for his ship Jack would risk his life as 
he would perhaps for no living being and for no amount of 
money. As soon as pay day is spent and Jack gets hard up, 
he begins to loaf about wharfs and docks, and critically in- 
spects every vessel. When he gets to be an old boarder, he 
lounges about the shipping office till he is picked or patiently 
waits his turn. Then he ships, goes to sea and is a new crea- 
ture. The slouchy, awkward being, with his shore clothes too 
big or too little, moping about as if lost, is suddenly trans- 
formed. His face brightens, his eyes sparkle, he looks neat, 
even clean and smart, and glides up and down the rigging and 
about the spars with the agility of a monkey. He sings, 
laughs and is happy. 

Shipping was fairly good in Glasgow. It was about the 
middle of November. My money, too, was gone, and I was 
gradually falling into line with the old boarders. One morn- 
ing there were five vessels on the bulletin in the shipping of- 
fice. I failed in the first two, one bound for China and the 
other for Australia. I was refused a berth in the latter be- 
cause I was too light as a seaman. Captain Clark, of the 
Capricorn had given me a seaman’s discharge, and a written 
recommendation and so I wanted to ship now as seaman. 
Next on the bulletin came — 

“THE KOANOKE— a hark, 

Bound for Demerara and such port or ports, 

ON THE 

N^orth or South American coasts, 

AT THE 

Discretion of the Captain and the Company 

The foregoing was included in the articles and I was offered 
a berth. The Roanoke was not in Glasgow and I was just a 
little afraid of shipping in a vessel that lay in some other port 
(1 did not want to get into another old critter), I asked a good 
many questions, but was assured that the Roanoke was a 


182 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


brand new vessel, going on her maiden voyage. So I shipped 
and signed the first articles as seaman. 

We left that evening, arriving late in the night at Alboa, 
where we went at once on board. We were not called out till 
eight o’clock next morning and had a good breakfast. At 
nine o’clock the mate came forward and we turned to. The 
mate was a young man, twenty-six years of age ; the second 
mate perhaps twenty-eight. We had eight seamen and two 
ordinaries, with chips and the doctor, making a crew of fif- 
teen all told. After we had cleared up the deck, the mate 
said, pleasantly, “wash down the deck, boys, and see if the 
running gear is all in ship shape.” An hour’s work and all 
was done. It commenced raining and the weather was cold. 
The Roanoke was all ready for sea, and as there was nothing 
else to be done we knocked off and went into the forecastle. 

How I missed Harry, and I was so much troubled about 
him. He had received some money with the letter that had 
made him leave so suddenly, and I was left without any fur- 
ther information. 

The Roanoke was a new vessel, a beautiful ship, indeed. 
Everything about her was new and we hoped to have an easy 
time. The captain came on board in the afternoon and we 
were called. “All hands on deck.” Captain Mackey was a 
man of medium size, full, black beard and dark, flashing eyes, 
and was, perhaps, forty years old. He had but little to say 
and spoke only to the mate. At four o’clock the towboat 
came alongside, we cast loose our moorings and were towed 
down the Firth of Forth. The night was dark and it rained 
heavily. Toward morning it turned still colder and snowed 
lightly. The wind was against us and we towed into Leith 
and came to anchor. The wind blew steadily from the east 
and the captain told us if we wished to go ashore we could 
do so. 

Tom, a Russian, and a good fellow, said to me, “Let’s 
go and take the train to Edinburgh. We can get back by 
four o’clock this evening and it will only cost us a few shil- 
lings.” I agreed and we went ashore, taking the train that 
left about ten o’clock. Tom, like myself, had no chum and 
as he spoke German, having been reared in a little fishing 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


183 


town near the boundary of the Baltic sea, we soon drifted in- 
to an agreeable friendship. We spent about four hours in 
Edinburgh. Tom was not a drinking man, so we had all of 
our time to^ devote to the curiosities of the place. We visited 
the old castle, where we saw the sword of Sir William Wal- 
lace, the Crown of Scotland and relics of all kinds mostly 
oonnected with Scottish history. After a good dinner, we took 
a stroll about the streets. Having no guide, we saw but little 
that was interesting to us, besides, it was unpleasantly cold; 
so we went back to Leith, where we met our shipmates. Join- 
ing them, we spent the last of our advance money and 
returned on board about eleven o’clock at night. 

The next morning we hove anchor and in spite of a head 
wind, made sail and stood out into the North Sea. As the 
watches were picked, I made a double advance — a full seaman 
n,nd in the port watch. Tom had to go into the starboard 
watch and so we could not be chums. “Let the watch go be- 
low,” said the captain, as eight bells were struck. It is a 
custom that the port watch has the first eight hours below (8 
to 12 and 4 to 8, the first and third watch). As we entered 
the forecastle, I found our watch composed of John, an old 
Scotchman, sixty-eight years old; Harry, an American, from 
Portland, Maine; Steve, from Falmouth, England; and myself, 
as seamen, with George, a Glasgow boy, as ordinary. The 
wind increased after we went below and a cold misty rain fell. 
I lay awake for some hours, contemplating with pleasure that 
I was now seaman and would not have to get the grub, nor 
clean up any more. Neither would I have to grease down the 
top masts, nor sweep the deck; nor perform sundry other lit- 
tle extra duties that fell to the lot of an ordinary, and with 
these sweet thoughts in my mind I fell asleep. 

“All hands on deck,” shouted a hoarse voice into the fore- 
castle, and we had hardly gotten out of our bunks when we 
heard the sound of rattling blocks and flapping sails. “Hur- 
ry up there, lads,” called the second mate, and as soon as we 
stepped out on deck, he shouted, “Lay aloft there and reef 
the foretop sail.” It rained and was very cold and pitch dark. 
“You come with me,” said Yankee Harry, “and let’s take the 
weather yard arm.” The wet heavy sail, much worse to han- 


184 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS- 


die for being new, was hard to gather in and the ropes being^ 
new were stiff and hard. It took us nearly twice the usual 
time, but we got it reefed and went down on deck. We had 
hardly cleared the gear, when the captain called out, ‘ Furl 
your main sail.” This was a fearful task and both the mate 
and second mate as well as chips and the doctor went aloft to 
help; the captain alone remaining on deck at the wheel. It 
took more than an hour to furl the main sail, then we had to 
reef the main top sail and fore sail and so lay under small 
canvas. It was nearly four o’clock when everything was snug, 
and we had been called out about half past ten. Again our 
watch was sent below with orders to be ready for a call; that 
meant not to undress, but be ready to get out on deck at a 
moment’s notice. It had been rather a hard night’s work. 

The next morning we found that the new rigging was slack- 
ing up under the immense strain and nearly all day we were 
kept on deck pulling and hauling at the running gear and 
setting up the fore and main lower rigging. “Pump ship,” 
called the mate, at six o’clock. As that is generally the last 
job for the day’s work, we hoped to have a rest. We pumped 
and pumped. After more than half an hour’s pumping, chips 
let down the sounding rod and found still two feet of water. 
That meant another hour’s pumping. Every ship leaks some 
and I now learned that a new ship may leak as much as an old 
critter. Some of the men cursed and swore, but they j)umped 
till she sucked and all hands went to supper. During the 
night and following day the rigging stretched worse than be- 
fore and the leak also became worse. The wind increased but 
hauled to the north-east and so was more in our favor. As 
we could carry but little sail, our progress was slow. The sky 
looked angry, it snowed at intervals and was freezing cold, the 
sea was short and breakish. “We are going to try and make 
a harbor,” said the mate to me, on the morning of the fifth 
day out. I hope we may, sir,” I replied, meaning, with all 
my heart, what I said. 

The North Sea is most beautiful when the weather is fine, 
about June, July and the first part of August, though it is 
never safe from storms. Its scenery is indeed magnificent, 
with its thousands of fishing smacks and other vessels of all 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


185 


sizes, with the coasts of Scotland and England away to the 
north and west and the coasts of Denmark, Germany and 
Holland on the south and east, one of which is in sight nearly 
all of the time — everything combined to make it interesting 
and to keep the passenger delighted. But a trip through the 
North Sea in the winter or late fall, as it was with us, is a very 
trying and a very dangerous passage. “There never is any 
spring time on the North Sea,” said old John one evening, 
and perhaps he was right. 

The slacking up of the rigging permitted the masts to jerk 
about and increased the leaking. We hoped to stop this by 
lightening the ship and so hove about one hundred and fifty 
tons of coal overboard. It helped some, still every two hours 
we had to pump ship from twenty to thirty minutes. At last 
we sighted the coast near Shields, in the north of England. 
W e failed to get a pilot, but as the captain knew the water 
pretty well he ran in without a pilot, and late on a Saturday 
evening, after battling with the elements for ten days, we 
dropped our anchor just inside the rocks in the harbor of 
Shields. The water was deep, and it took fifty fathoms of 
chain. We stowed our sails and all hands went below except 
two men for anchor watch, and the captain promised us a few 
days’ rest. Tired and nearly sick we went into the forecastle 
for the first good night’s rest since leaving Leith. We were 
suddenly roused about daylight next morning as the ship gave 
a jerk, throwing several men out of their bunks and waking 
all of us. Then came a cry of terror from the watchmen on 
deck, calling loudly: “Get up, quick! all hands on deck ” 
Then a heavy sea lunged over the bow, washing into the fore- 
castle and wetting every one of us to the skin. By this time 
the captain and both mates were on deck. “The cable snap- 
ped and we’e adrift,” called one of the watchmen. “Make 
sail,” shouted the captain. No ship’s crew ever made sail 
quicker than we did that morning. Fortunately it was light 
enough for us to see. The wind blew right into the harbor, 
dead against us, and to get out of the harbor was our only 
salvation. 

Perhaps the narrowest escape we ever made we made that 
cold morning, as we barely passed the breakers, the spray of 


186 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


which dashed over our vessel. Having had a good night’s 
rest, and above all being thankful for our safety, we renewed 
our battle with the elements. When we pulled in our cable 
we found only about seven fathoms, having lost our working 
anchor and more than forty fathoms of chain. The wind was 
a little lighter and in the east again. We took the reefs out 
of our topsails, which were frozen and fringed with icicles. 
We laid close to the wind and made about a south-east course. 
The next day a heavy snow storm set in and we narrowly es- 
caped collision with a steamer, as we could not see a ship’s 
length ahead of us. Captain Mackey was as kind as any man 
could be, told the doctor to “give us the best grub he had,” 
and besides gave each watch their grog. After another week 
we entered the English Channel with a fair wind, but blow- 
ing almost a gale from the north-east. We ran before it and 
made good time and safely reached Falmouth, where we had 
to drop our port anchor. Ships carry two anchors on the 
bow, a working (starboard) anchor and the port anchor, which 
is much heavier to handle. “Let the men rest a few days,” 
said the captain. We appreciated it and we sadly needed it. 

After four days’ rest, including a day’s liberty without any 
money, we once more made ready for sea. All damage had 
been repaired and we got a new anchor and forty fathoms of 
chain; also shipped a new seaman in place of a starboard 
watch man named Bill, who was quite sick and was sent to 
the hospital. As we sailed out of the harbor of Falmouth, 
the weather was beautiful and with a fair breeze and under 
full sail, we passed out of the English Channel. The captain 
had been considerate, at times even kind to us, but now he 
changed and became harsh and abusive in his manner. The 
mate followed his example. Unnecessary work was demanded 
and the afternoon watches were kept on deck. The first work 
after leaving Falmouth was to bend our fine weather sails. 
Then the painted work inboard was sanded and canvased. One 
afternoon, while thus scrubbing, old John was going too fast 
and the mate ran at him and cursed the old man in a most di- 
abolical way. Quick as a flash, old John grabbed the mate by 
the throat and said, coolly) “Look a’ here, youngster, I’ve 
been used to ships where the mate was a gentleman. The 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


187 


next time you talk to me that way, I paddle you, you hear?” 
That was the beginning of hostilities. The captain, mate and 
second mate (it took all three of them) put the old man in 
irons and chained him down on deck to a ringbolt near the 
quarter deck. Then the captain called the rest of us and 
said : “1 want instant obedience to all orders, no matter what 
the orders be, and if any of you talk back a word. I’ll keep 
you up all day and put you on half rations. Now get to work, 
you’ll have no supper till the bulwarks are clean all round the 
deck.” It was new to me as well as the rest of us. At last, 
about half an hour late, we went to supper, such as it was. 
That evening, too, the captain had a row the doctor, a tall, 
highland Scotchman. 

The decks were all washed down once more (taking up all 
the dog watch) and at eight bells all hands pumped ship and 
the watch went below. After we went into the forecastle, Yan- 
kee Harry said : “Boys, I’ll be d — d if I stand much more of 
this.” Old John, who was released at eight bells and now ate 
what he could find in the way of supper, said nothing, but gnaw- 
ed away on a hard-tack and a piece of junk (pickled beef), and 
sobbed while the great tear drops ran down his weather-beaten 
cheeks. As it had been our morning watch (eight to twelve) 
■on deck and we were kept up through the afternoon and dog 
watches, we had worked hard all day and were very tired. 
Wind and weather were in our favor as we ran down the trade 
wind, but the hard work continued; both the afternoon and 
dog watches were kept up and we were obliged to do all man- 
ner of unnecessary work and live on close rations, weighed 
■out every morning. Even water was measured out at close 
rations — three quarts per day for each man. Out of that 
each man had to give the cook two quarts for coffee for break- 
fast and supper and yellow soup for dinner, leaving one quart 
to drink. These were hard times of a new kind. The men 
were discontented, overworked and underfed. Only old John 
kept calm. He was a great Presbyterian and hence an earn- 
est Christian. “It’s all right,” he said. “Just wait, all 
things will work for our good if we trust the good Lord, but” 
he said, “jump on him if he cusses you.” 

It was the same routine work every day. The captain 


188 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


rarely spoke to any of us, but gave his orders to the mate or 
second mate, who reissued them to the men. Each day added 
some new grievance, till feeling rose to boiling heat and staid 
there. The captain as well as the mates, and chips, who sided 
with them, knew just where to stop. Another fight would 
have precipitated a mutiny, which was constantly threatening 
and for which we were always prepared. At last we reached 
the mouth of Demerara river, and on a Wednesday evening^ 
dropped our anchor in the harbor of Georgetown. We 
worked till ten o’clock that night, having also dropped our 
port anchor, so that one anchor was up the river and the 
other some twenty-five fathoms down the river, and the change 
ing of the tides would not affect our position, the vessel sim- 
ply swinging around in her place. The next day all sails were 
taken down and stowed away. Friday and Saturday we were 
kept busy cleaning and scrubbing, first inside the rail and 
then in boats around the outside. 

Sunday morning came. We were called out at the usual 
time, five o’clock. “We’ll commence unloading to-morrow,” 
said the mate, “and we must get the gear aloft to-day. 
That meant a whole day’s work on Sunday. “Mr. mate,’^ 
said old John, solemnly, “I’m willing to do what’s right. I’ll 
do what the law requires; that is to pump ship or perform 
such duties as are absolutely necessary to the safety of the 
vessel. Now, sir, it is not necessary to rig that gear to-day. 
This is Sunday — a day in which all good people serve God,, 
and I’ll not work a lick.” “Neither will I,” said Steve, and 
we all joined in, for since old John had been put in irons, we 
were only waiting for him to take a stand that we might join 
him. The mate went aft. The captain, as if expecting trou~ 
ble, stood on the quarter deck and at once dispatched the 
second mate and chips in the dingy to the shore. In half an 
hour came the large police boat; we were ordered into it, 
rowed ashore, marched to the city prison and locked up. 

We found ourselves — all of us — in a large apartment. It 
was clean and had a good supply of fresh water. An hour or 
so after our an ival, the police sergeant, Jim, came and asked 
if we wanted any breakfast. It seemed rather an odd ques- 
tion, but he went on to explain that if we had any money wo 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


189 


could order our breakfast from a restaurant or some boarding 
house and have anything we wanted. We had no money. 
^‘Well/’ said Jim, “you’ll get some money before you leave 
the port, and if you’ll promise to pay as soon as you can. I’ll 
get you something. You can get a good breakfast for a shil- 
ling apiece.” We agreed and sent a written order. It was a 
splendid breakfast and heartily did we enjoy it. Then our 
door was left open and we could walk about in the large yard. 
Jim, the sergeant, was an old sailor, and in sympathy with us, 
and we suffered no inconvenience, but, as George expressed 
it: “We are having a fine holiday.” Dinner and supper 
were ordered as our breakfast had been. The captain of the 
police came that evening and interviewed us, and we told 
him our story simple and true. He, too, as well as nearly all 
the white part of the police force, was an ex-sailor, and he 
told us that our captain could not do us any harm. Monday 
morning we were marched to the court house, together with 
some twenty-five or thirty other prisoners, locked up in the 
cage and left to await our turn. At eleven o’clock we were 
called, marched single file into the court room and placed in 
the dock. The judge was a negro, but a man of fine appear- 
ance, dignified and intelligent. A lawyer read the charge, 
which the captain affirmed, and we p^ead: “not guilty.” The 
charge was that we had refused duty. As we had no attorney 
the judge himself interrogated us. Old John made quite a 
speech, in substance about as follows: “Your honor, we 
have done our duty to Captain Mackey as faithfully as any 
ship’s crew ever did. We worked and starved for him. We 
were kept up watches when we ought to have rested, and we 
have suffered his and the mate’s cursing and abuse. Your 
honor, I’m a Christian, a Presbyterian and an old man, I want 
to live in peace and do right; I’ll work for no man on the 
Sabbath day when we should serve the Lord.” After some 
cross-questioning the judge turned to the captain and said: 
“Captain Mackey, you look like an honest man and a gentle- 
man ; I hope you’ll do what is right.^’ Then turning to us he 
admonished us to cherish no unkind feelings, let the past be 
past, go back on board quietly and go to work like good, hon- 
est men. With that he pronounced us “not guilty,” and we 


190 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


were dismissed. A light applause was heard in the court 
room, from some sailors who had come to hear our trial, but 
the policemen stopped it, and we left the court house and 
went straight on board. The captain had to pay the costs — 
even the bills for the meals we had ordered were presented to 
him by the captain of the police, but were charged to our ac- 
counts. 

Things went on quietly but the feeling was no better. The 
mate was just a little afraid of most of the men. Poor George 
caught most of his abuse. The second mate would have been 
kinder to us but for the captain and the mate. Chips was a 
mere tool, two-faced and sneakish in his ways. But the doc- 
tor stood solidly with us. So time wore on, hard work and 
harder fare, with fresh meat only twice a week. The law de- 
manded that much. We had also forty-eight hours liberty 
and one pound of our wages, but we felt that we had won a 
victory and that did us good. 

The captain staid on board nearly all the time while we 
were discharging our cargo, perhaps, as some one remarked, 
“to save his hotel bill and charge it to the ship’s company.’^ 
The mate was as cross as he dared to be. Things could not 
last in that way. A storm was gathering. Lightnings flashed 
from the eyes and thunderings muttered in an undertone from 
every heart. How would this end? We shall see. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

MUTINY AND MURDER. 

It was on a Friday that we were called out earlier than us- 
ual, much earlier than was necessary, so as to wash .down the 
decks and do sundry jobs before commencing on our cargo at 
six o’clock. The captain seemed to be rather afraid of the 
doctor, but this morning it looked as if war had been de- 
clared, for we could hear them talking loud and angrily in 
the cabin. All hands were now busy at the cargo. Now the 


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191 


doctor came up out of the cabin, talked aloud to himself as 
he went along the deck, and said some bitter things about the 
captain and the ship, calling the latter “hell afloat,” and so 
passed into the galley. Directly the captain came up, pistol 
in hand, walked to the galley and called the cook to come out, 
cursing him at the same time. Doctor did not come; then 
the captain entered the galley and as he did so — whack! the 
doctor struck him in the face with a frying pan, knocking the 
captain some ten feet, sprawling on the deck. Then the cap- 
tain began to shoot. This was the signal; all hands rushed 
on deck. The captain shot the doctor who staggered, then 
fell and lay motionless. As he thus lay, the mate made to- 
wards him with a handspike and was about to strike him when 
Harry, armed with a short crowbar, met him and said : “Stop, 
young man, if you want to fight, hit me.” With that the 
mate turned on him with the heavy handspike raised to strike. 
Harry let fly the crowbar at him with all his might. The 
crowbar turned edgewise in its short flight, and the point 
struck the mate right under the chin, tearing a fearful gash in 
his throat. He fell backward and lay as motionless as the 
doctor. The captain had kept firing his pistol since the fight 
began, but hit nobody except the doctor. As the mate fell 
we all made a rush for the quarter deck, and the captain ran 
down into the cabin. Harry caught chips, who flourished an 
ax, knocked him down and threw the ax overboard. The sec- 
ond mate jumped overboard, swam astern, got into the boat 
tied there, cut the rope and floated away with the tide. 

The battle was over. Harry told us to look after the doc- 
tor and the mate. The doctor was bleeding profusely; was 
shot in the left side and several ribs were broken, but we 
could not tell whether the bullet had gone in or not. The 
mate was dead. His windpipe was. severed and his neck 
broken, and he lay in a pool of clotting blood. Chips cried 
like a frightened child, and begged that his life be spared. 
The captain had locked himself in his state room in the cabin 
and would not answer to our calls. Two men, Steve and old 
John, remained in the cabin, watching the door. Now we 
gathered together to consult as to what was to be done next. 
Some suggested that we run away. “ No,” said old John, 


192 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


“they’ll catch us if we do, and it will be all the worse for us. 
I believe in England’s laws. This is a British province and 
we can plead a righteous cause. Let’s surrender ourselves to 
the police, and I believe we will come out all right.” To this 
we finally all agreed. 

Several men, who were in the lighter, into which we were 
discharging our coal, were nearly scared out of their wits, and 
were now casting loose their lighter to get away from us. 
Harry jumped on board, and with them went on shore, to 
report at the police headquarters. In half an hour, here 
came the police boat. The regular police patrol boat rowed 
by two negroes, and Sergeant Jim in charge bringing Yankee 
Harry back with him. We told him our story. He sat 
down, lit his pipe and called for a drink of water, as calmly 
as if nothing had happened. “Cool down, boys,” he said to 
us, “get your pipes and let’s have a smoke, and we’ll talk 
over what’s best to be done.” But few of us felt like smok- 
ing except George who said, “by jiminy, I’d like to smoke 
the captain.” Then Sergeant Jim got up and said: “boys, 
you remember where the court house is? The street that 
passes by it coming up from the wharf, and going all the way 
through town, goes on into the country some seven or eight 
miles, then you turn to the right, and if you keep bn you’ll 
reach the swamp. No living soul can find you there, but you 
can’t live there long. Its eighteen miles to Barbice, where 
there’s a good deal of shipping. Of course, you understand, 
I don’t mean for you to run away. (?) Now I’ll tell you 
plainly, this is a very serious case. This affair will involve 
not only the captain, but the ship, her cargo, the merchants 
and the whole business It will cost lots of money, and 
money goes a long ways in this country. Now I’m going on 
shore again to report you, and will come back in, well not 
less than an hour, but I’ll send the hospital boat right away, 
so that doctor and the dead mate may be moved. Stay right 
here boys, (?) I don’t know what’s best, stay right here till 
I come back.” So Jim left us. 

Noble fellow ! how we appreciated his sympathy, but we 
decided after all to stay. In half an hour the boat came and 
the men took the doctor, whom we now hoped was not 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


193 


seriously hurt, wrapped the mate’s body in a piece of canvas, 
then placed both in the boat and rowed away. In a little 
more than an hour Jim returned. Instead of his small patrol 
boat, he now had the large boat in which we went ashore 
once before. He was accompanied by eight policemen. We 
all went into the boat, leaving our brave (?) captain locked 
up in his room. Arriving at the prison we were put in 
different rooms, two in each cell. We were cut off from any 
oommunication with the outside world, but seemed to have 
plenty of sympathizers in the town ; for good meals were sent 
to us, and more than enough to drink. We were allowed to 
walk about in the yard for an hour or two, in the morning 
from eight to nine o’clock, and in the evening from five to six, 
but were closely guarded. 

At last our trial commenced. We were charged with 
mutiny and murder. Two good attorneys, whose kindly 
interest I shall never forget, plead our cause. Two days were 
consumed in preliminaries, and on the third day we were 
marched, hand-cuffed, to the court house. These were 
indeed trying moments. Poor old John, good old man, took it 
Tery hard. “I never harmed any man in my life,” he said as 
a policeman put the cuffs on him. We were arraigned in the 
cage, and separately led into the court room, and closely 
cross-questioned. At twelve o’clock we were sent back to the 
prison, and for several days we were kept there, and could 
not tell how the trial proceeded, then we were again sent for, 
again cross-questioned, and on the fifth day of the trial all of 
us except Harry and Steve were acquitted and set free, with 
the injunction to return on board, and be ready for duty in 
forty-eight hours. We were greeted by a shout of applause 
from a crowd of sailors, and from other people of the town. 
JS^othing was too good for us, and all day we were carried 
about and treated to much more than was good for us. 

I met a young man who called himself John Brown. He 
belonged to the crew of an American three-masted schooner, 
although he was a German from near Hamburg. W e at once 
formed a friendship and remained together. He was out on 
twenty-four hours liberty. A number of vessels had granted 
liberty, and their crews were attending our trial. We were 


194 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


acquitted on Wednesday, and on Friday morning atten o’clock 
the jury acquitted Harry and Steve. Enthusiasm knew no 
bounds among the sailors, and many influential people of the- 
town were in sympathy with us and rejoiced in our deliver- 
ance, and none rejoiced more than our friend Sergeant Jim^ 
Brown, my new found friend, asked me as the jubilee partj 
subsided, “What are you going to do?” I did not know. 
Harry and Steve declared they would go back to the Roanoko 
and “fight it out to the last.” Brown said : “ I’ve had a 
tough time of it; have overstaid my liberty, and know I’ll 
catch it when I get back. Let’s run away. I know the coun- 
try, and we can find our way to the big sugar plantations and 
get work there. What do you say? ” I had no wages due me,, 
as I had received one month’s advance and had already taken 
up three pounds, and that was about all that was due, as we 
had been out just about t^vo months. I had my best clothes- 
on, also had my letters and discharges from the Liverpool,, 
the Swallow and the Capricorn in my pocket. I was heartily" 
tired of the Roanoke, and so agreed. Neither of us had any 
money, but we thought we could get there in a day, and could 
go at once to work, and then we would be all right. We went 
to the sailors’ boarding house to see our shipmates once more.. 
Here a man came up to me and said : “ Have you a discharge? 
I’ll give you a pound for it. I can’t ship without one.” I 
regretted to part with these papers, but as I needed the money 
I sold him the discharge from the old critter. An English 
discharge is at once a passport, securing British protection, 
and a recommendation. Especially in a foreign port the man 
with a good discharge has a much better chance than a mart 
without one. The fellow took it. It was just about a year 
old. He changed the year and was happy. Hence, there- 
were two men of the same name, for he had to assume my 
name as well as my papers. Bidding my shipmates good-bye^ 
Brown and I struck out, and soon left Georgetown and the 
Roanoke behind us. 

The stillness of the woods was a delightful change from the 
late excitement and noise. The trees were clad in fresh, green, 
foliage, the grass was dotted here and there with wild flowers, 
in pretty designs, that filled the air with wholesome fragrance- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


195 


Birds sang and chirped all about us, and I was forcibly re- 
minded of that long journey through Central America, and I 
wondered what had become of all those companions, especially 
Herman and Kobert. Brown and I both seemed in a contem- 
plative mood, and had walked along the country road an hour 
or so without speaking. 

We had left Georgetown about four o’clock. It was now 
late, the sun had sunk behind the western treetops some time 
since, and along the eastern horizon the stars began to twinkle 
in the clear sky. How refreshing and restful was this peace- 
ful, rural scenery and how free I felt as I thought of the bitter 
feelings that had filled my mind and heart and had taken 
possession of me, as well as my shipmates, on board the 
Koanoke. I was glad that I had left her and looked hopefully 
into the future. “You reckon we had better strike a camp 
pretty soon?” asked Brown, at last breaking the silence. 
“Yes,” I said, “anywhere will do me.” “Let’s go a little 
further,” suggested Brown again. We were going up a grad- 
ually sloping hill and the road turned to the left some half a 
mile ahead of us. Reaching the turn in the road, we could 
see signs of a settlement further on. “May be we can find a 
lodging house of some kind,” I said. “No,” replied Brown, 
“we’d better save our money. We can find a good shelter 
somewhere, and it’s more pleasant to sleep out of doors any- 
how, a house is too hot.” We found a few scattered houses, 
rudely constructed and occupied by negroes. Fortunately, 
everybody here spoke English. We asked for directions to 
the plantation, when an old darkey replied, “You’s right 
gem’mens, you’s on de right road, de Montrose plantation 
is ’bout fifteen miles straight up dat same road you’s trablin’.” 
“Any white people living here?” asked Brown. “Naw sar,” 
said the old darkey, then thinking a moment, he changed his 
mind. “Yes sar, dar’s one, ’bout two miles down dat same 
road dar’s a white man libing. He’s a Scotchman, dey say, 
he’s red headed.” We were not interested in his hair, but 
were glad to learn that the man was a Scotchman and so bade 
the old man good evening and walked on. It was getting 
dark now, but we could see our road. 

“There’s a light,” said Brown, stopping suddenly. It was 


196 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


to our right, off the road. We concluded that must be the 
place and so started for it. It proved to be a small, one room 
shanty with two sheds near it — all enclosed by a brush fence. 
We could see the light through the cracks of the shanty and 
walked up to it, getting over the fence as best we could, as we 
could find no gate. It was growing dark and cloudy and we 
hoped to get a lodging here, as it might rain during the night. 
Brown knocked at the door. A dog answered with a yelling 
bark, but somebody seemed to make him hush and all was 
silent again. We knocked again and again — still no answer, 
then we called and hallooed, but no one replied. “They don’t 
want any visitors here,” said Brown, at last and we turned 
away. Coming up to one of the small sheds, a stable it seemed 
to be, we stopped. There was a good roof over it and it con- 
tained some hay. “Let’s crawl in here,” said Brown, “and 
we’ll be safe from the rain, anyhow, and if it’s too hot we 
can get out.” “All right,” I said, “crawl in and I’ll follow.” 
We could hear a pig grunt, but it was not in the same apart- 
ment with us, and so we lay down, tired and hungry. We 
had just opened our bundles to get out our supper, which we 
had brought along from Georgetown, when the door of the 
shanty opened; a large dog leaped out with an angry bark 
and a man with a shotgun followed. The dog smelled — not 
rats — but us and barked madly at our shed. “Git out o’ thar, 
you sneaking tramps, or I’ll shoot right into you.” “Hold 
on. Mister, we are no tramps,” said Brown, “we’ll pay you 
if you’ll let us stay here to-night.” “Stay nuthin’, git out or 
I’ll shoot.” “Stop that dog and hold him and we’ll go,” 
said I, fearing the dog more than his gun. The man called 
the dog and held him and we got out quick. “Run, you 
thieves,” said the hoarse voice of the red headed Scotchman, 
“or I’ll turn the dog loose.” We did run, scrambled over 
the brush fence and still ran. We had hardly gotten over 
the fence, when the man turned the dog loose and the thing 
came tearing after us, but stopped at a safe distance and 
barked. Brown had a large sheath knife and I had a heavy 
sailors’ knife, but the dog did not come within our reach. So 
we walked on a piece further, sat down on the grass and 
Brown cursed the red headed Scotchman and his dog and his 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


197 


pig and his blamed old shanty for everything he could think of. 
Gradually we got over our scare and ate some of our bread 
and ham. Then it commenced to rain, slowly at first, then 
increasing and it rained steadily for several hours. After 
awhile, we fell asleep. We were aroused next morning by 
some passers by. ‘‘Sense me,” said a tall darkey, “we thought 
you might be sick.” “No,” said Brown, “we are all right. 
How far is it to the Government Plantation?” “To Mont- 
rose? ’bout ten mile. We’re gwine dar now.” We got up 
and intended going with them, but they walked too fast and 
as the sun got up above the trees, it became too warm, so we 
dropped behind and they were soon out of sight. We stopped 
and rested from one till two o’clock, then started on and 
about four o’clock in the evening we sighted the smoke stacks 
and roofs of the high buildings. Clouds of smoke rolled up 
from the buildings. We decided to camp out another night 
and go in in time for work the next morning. We had 
learned from the men who woke us, that work commenced at 
six o’clock. 

So early next morning we started for the great plantations. 
Following the crowd, we entered the main gate and were di- 
rected to the ofl^ce. As we applied for work the man at the 
desk asked us what we could do. “Do you know anything 
about machinery?” “Yes,” said Brown, “I’m an engineer.” 
The man looked at him keenly from head to foot, then looked 
at me and asked again ; ‘-Can you two take a boiler?” “Yes, 
sir,-” replied Brown, promptly. “Well,” said the man, “re- 
port at six o’clock this evening and you -can go on for 
to-night. Boiler No. 4.” With that we had to make room 
for others who pressed behind us. 

During the forenoon as we were walking about, we passed 
by a beautiful hou&e, the only substantial house in the town 
of Montrose. We walked close to it, to admire the beauti- 
ful flowers that bloomed profusely, and while standing there 
near the side door of the house, a lady’s voice called to us 
pleasantly. “Young men, are you sailors?” “Yes, lady,” 
said Brown with his usual promptness. “Where are you 
from?” “We are from Savannah,” said Brown again. 
Then I added that we had come from different ships and that 


198 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


I had come from Glasgow. “ Oh ! did you ! the lady replied. 
“That is my home. How I wish I could see that dear old 
town. I get so tired of this dreary place.” She talked on 
pleasantly and advised us not to stay there long, as it was 
very sickly. “ Be very careful, don’t sleep out in the night 
air, and don’t drink the canal water.” Then she asked us to 
come in; following her, we were led into the dining room, 
where the lady had a servant bring us some good things to 
eat, and a cup of the best coffee I ever tasted. Then she 
bade us a pleasant good-day, when we had eaten heartily and 
started to go. “ Be good boys,” she said earnestly, and we 
left feeling that a bright pure ray of God’s sunshine had 
fallen into our lives, and it did us good. 

Towards evening I asked Brown, “say, do you know how 
to manage a boiler?” “I reckon I do,” he said rather care- 
lessly, and I asked again, “did you ever manage one?” 
“No,” he replied, “ but if you never try you’ll never learn. 
You just leave that to me. We’ll manage that boiler all 
right.” It was with some doubt that 1 followed Brown to 
the office, but we received a ticket each, after having given 
in our names we went to the boiler shed, and were shown to 
No. 4. The two men who had been firing all day, threw 
down their pokes and we took their places. I was somewhat 
relieved when I saw what we had to do. There was a boiler 
man who supervised the firing of all six of the great boilers 
under the same long shed. Each boiler had two fires, and 
Brown and I had a fire apiece to keep hot. We were firing 
with bagasse, the dry refuse of the cane after passing through 
the mill. It was hard, hot work, from six to six, twelve 
hours, with twenty minutes rest at midnight and all for 
eighteen pence. We had rented a room for two shillings a 
week, and we barely made expenses the first week, but we 
stuck to it, it was the best that could be done. The second 
week was drawing to a close, when the engineer of the watch 
called me and told me to go and see the cane boss. This 
dignitary was a negro, but a man of intelligence and perfectly 
reliable. “Do you think you could manage a barge?” he 
asked as I met him. “ Yes, sir,” I said, “I think lean.” 
“ Well, take charge of No. 22, and be ready to start by six 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


199 


o’clock. You had better quit firing and go and rest until 
morning.” So saying he left me, having first pointed out 
one of the long narrow barges, with a small engine in the 
stern, in which the cane was conveyed from the fields to the 
mills. It was about two o’clock, so I reported to the 
engineer who at once sent one of the carriers to take my 
place. Two days later. Brown too got a barge, and our work 
was much lighter. 

The canal divided the large fields of five thousand acres 
into squares of perhaps half a mile each. The barges passed 
up and down these canals and were required to bring six loads 
per day. I had twenty or thirty coolies and a negro mate, 
and I was captain. This was the biggest plantation I ever 
saw, employing in all about six thousand men. They made 
mostly rum, raw sugar and molasses. The cane was rich and 
tender, and we almost lived on it. It was healthful, so I was 
told, and we could eat as much as we wished, so our work was 
not hindered. We now got seventeen shillings and six pence 
per day, but the stagnant water and the swarms of mosquitoes 
soon told on me. One afternoon, about ten days after I had 
assumed my command, I had a chill — the first chill I ever 
had — and it scared me. I finished the day and that evening 
I asked to lay off the next day. It was granted. Brown, too, 
was tired. We had been there three weeks, had saved some 
five or six pounds each, and so the next morning (Saturday), 
handed in our tickets, one for each day’s work, and were paid 
off in full. We left Montrose about nine o’clock, camped 
out that night and reached Georgetown about noon on Sun- 
day. 

Among the first men I met was the doctor of the Roanoke. 
He had gotten well and had left the hospital only a few days 
before. I was delighted to see him and we purposed to have 
a good time for a day or two, but in the afternoon I had an- 
other chill, worse than the first; my fever ran very high and 
all night I struggled with it. On Monday morning I went to 
.see a doctor, who gave me some medicine and advised me to 
get away from there as soon as possible. When he learned 
that I was one of the crew of the Roanoke he shook my hand 
warmly and did not charge me even for my medicine, as he 


200 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


seemed to own the drug store. He had been much interested 
in our case. 

The Roanoke had gone some time since, bound for Ma« 
deira, thence back to Glasgow. That evening Brown came 
to me in a hurry. I was lying down in a room in the sailors 
boarding house. “Get up quick,” he said, “there’s a Nova 
Scotia brigantine bound for Baltimore; we can get a berth 
in her, but we’ll have to go on board right away.” 

That was welcome news. I gathered up my medicine, 
bought a suit of oil cloth and other articles of necessary cloth- 
ing and we went on board. We did not leave that evening, 
but went right to work bending sails. The next morning we 
hove anchor and with the outgoing tide left Georgetown, I 
hoped forever. 

The weather was fine, the wind fair — everything was pleas- 
ant. We passed out of the river and the fresh sea breeze 
brought returning health and strength and we sailed away 
for Baltimore. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

MISS MAGGIE AND THE PARTY. 

The brigantine John H. Stevens, hailed from Halifax* 
She carried some four hundred tons, and was loaded with 
rum and raw sugar. The eaptain, mate and second mate, 
doctor and six seamen made up her crew. Brown and I were 
both in the mate’s watch together with Joe, a New Yorker 
and a good shipmate. We had a congenial crew, and time 
passed by pleasantly. During the dog watch, the captain 
joined in with the crew in telling yarns and in our music; Joe 
had an accordion, the mate played his flute and we having^ 
improvised a drum, played the band and sang. After two 
weeks’ sailing we sighted Cape Hatteras. It was evening, 
and we shortened sail and lay to till we got our pilot. 

About nine o’clock we sighted a pilot cutter, and the man 
who should guide us up the Chesapeake Bay came aboard* 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


201 


“Give her all your sails,” said the pilot as soon as he 
stepped on the quarter deck and assumed command, without 
introducing himself to anybody. He Avas an unusually young 
man and appeared rather dictatorial in his manner, but the 
mate told us to make sail, and in halt an hour we headed up 
the bay under full sail. After passing Fortress Monroe the 
wind changed to nearly due north, and we had to tack. 
There was a good deal of traflSc in the bay and the captain 
said, “pilot, I believe I’d shorten sail just a little. It’s very 
dark, and there are so many oyster schooners about.” “I 
know my business, captain. You can go below and go to 
sleep. I’ll run this thing till we get to Baltimore.” The 
captain looked at the young pilot with no little surprise, but 
controlled his temper and said nothing. However, he 
remained on deck. Eight bells struck, and our watch went 
below. As soon as we came on deck again at four o’clock in 
the morning, we Avere greeted by the young pilot’s voice 
calling out. “All hands stay on deck there till we tack ship.” 
Noav this was presumptuous on the part of a pilot, as he 
should have submitted his orders to the captain or the officer 
of the deck, but he had been presumptuous from the moment 
he came on board, constantly overriding the authority of the 
captain and officers. Still we remained on deck for nearly an 
hour, Avhen we tacked and went below. At six o’clock Brown 
was relieved at the wheel and as he left the quarter deck the 
pilot called to him : “Say, boy, you go up on the topsail yard 
and stay there till you see a light.” It was getting daylight 
and in a little Avhile would be sun up and the order seemed 
absurd, so Brown, in his ready way, replied abruptly: “Sir, 
I’tn no boy; besides, I don’t receive any orders from you, but 
from the mate, who is officer of the deck.” The pilot, furi- 
ous, jumped off the quarter deck, placed himself in front of 
BroAvn and shouted madly: “You rat, do you know whom 
you are talking to?” “Yes,” replied BroAvn, calmly, “you 
nibble at me a little more and I’ll eat you for breakfast.” 
“Stop that,” said the mate. “Go on forward, BroAvn, aud 
get ready to wash doAvn the deck.” The pilot went back on 
the quarter deck muttering imprecations. 

The captain now came on deck again. At half past six the 


202 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


doctor came on deck and asked: “Captain, shall we have 
breakfast at seven bells and all hands together?” “No,” in- 
terrupted the pilot, “we want breakfast at seven o’clock.” 
“Look here, young man,” said the captain, “I’ve had all I 
I can stand.” Then, turning to the doctor, he said: “ Yes, 
we want breakfast at seven bells, and all hands together.” 
The pilot went over to the lee side where the captain stood, 
and in his usual impudent manner, said: “I say, captain, 
Tm the pilot and I have absolute control of your vessel until 
she is moored in Baltimore, do you understand that?” The 
captain caught the pilot by the throat, and replied: “I say, 
I’m the master on board of this vessel and if you give another 
order without consulting me, or if you give me any more of 
your ‘sass,’ I’ll pitch you headlong overboard. Do you under- 
stand that?” With that the captain threw him down on 
deck. He got up, adjusted his collar and cravat and walked 
across to the weather side “too full for utterance.” Some 
fifteen minutes passed, seven bells struck and the watch was 
called out. As the second mate came on deck the pilot as- 
sailed him : “Say, second mate, as soon as the watch is ready, 
get all hands on deck.” The second mate, who had evidently 
heard the rumpus between the captain and the pilot, turned 
to the captain and asked, bluntly: “Captain, may I knock 
him down?” “No,” said the captain, “go and tell all hands 
ta go to breakfast.” Captain,” said the pilot, who seemed 
to have gotten new courage, “captain, I want to tack ship 
right now, and I want all hands on deck, and I dare you to 
countermand my orders.” This time the captain crossed the 
deck, grabbed the pilot by throat, and pushed him backwards 
off the quarter deck, then said: “Now I take command. If 
you give me any further trouble. I’ll have you put into irons 
and have you arrested as soon as we get into port.” Both the 
mates, and indeed all hands had gathered at the mainmast by 
this time, and were anxious to “lend a helping hand,” but the 
captain told us: “Go and get your breakfast, men, I can 
manage the young hero myself.” The young hero remained 
on the main deck and had nothing more to say as the captain 
assumed full command, taking the risk of any consequences 
that might ensue. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


203 


About ten miles from Baltimore we took a towboat and about 
five o’clock that evening we were moored alongside the wharf. 
A crowd of runners now rushed on board and after a good 
deal of discussion we decided to go all together, including our 
second mate, to whom we left the choice of a boarding house. 
He chose the boarding house kept by John Keynolds, on 
Thames street, where we shortly arrived and found a good 
supper awaiting us. The mate told us later that the captain 
had reported the trouble with the pilot at the custom house 
and stated that he was ready to prove the pilot’s incompe- 
tency, but there were no further consequences. 

Baltimore is a quiet, unassuming city, at least it appeared 
so to me. It seemed homelike, and on Sundays it reminded 
me of Glasgow. Mr. Eeynolds’ boarding house was quiet just 
now, our crew being about the only boarders and having had 
only a small pay day, we did not have much of an enthusiastic 
reception. Brown and I had only ten dollars due us, having 
been but fifteen days on board the Stevens. We had arrived 
on Friday and on the following Sunday as I came down stairs 
in the afternoon, I discovered a neat little parlor, kept by the 
family for private use. There was no one in there and I saw 
a piano. 1 could not resist the temptation so entered and sat 
down at the piano. ‘ My fingers were hard and stiff and out 
of practice, as I had scarcely touched a piano since leaving 
California. I ran over the keys, played some fragments of 
simple, soft little melodies and in a few moments, throwing 
my whole heart into the music, forgot where I was. Eureka 
Hotel came into my mind and Sophia into my heart. I re- 
membered the songs she used to sing and the pieces she loved 
best, and I played them over and wondered if she ever thought 
of me. I had written her but that one letter from Glasgow, 
but decided to write again that evening. Yes, I would write 
her a long letter and — “Hello! you play nicely,” said a sweet 
voice close behind me, and turning, I saw one of the prettiest 
girls I had ever met. A graceful figure, attired in a tasteful 
neglige costume of dark material ; soft, light hair, in two large 
braids falling nearly to the waist, blue eyes and a fair, sweet 
face. I arose and began an excuse for my intrusion, but she in- 
terrupted and said : “That’s all right. I’m Maggie Reynolds, 


204 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


aad so glad to find you. Play some more and let’s have some 
music. I’ve been lonesome all day; the folks are all gone 
and we can have a quiet time without being bothered by any- 
body.” We did have a delightful evening. Miss Maggie 
sang and I played her accompaniments ; then she played some 
and we played some duets together. “Oh! you came just in 
time,” she said, with a burst of enthusiasm. “Next Thurs- 
day night we are going to have a little party. You must come 
and help me arrange the program.” I consented and we be- 
gan to plan at once. While we were busy looking over a pile 
of sheet music, selecting songs and piano pieces, Mrs. Eey- 
nolds entered, seemed surprised, and asked, rather coolly: 
“Why Maggie, what are you doing?” “Oh! mamma, here’a 
a young man — ” then turning to me, asked bluntly: “What 
is your name?” I told my name and so Miss Maggie intro- 
duced me to her mother, a large, portly lady, rather awkward 
in her manner, and with just a little of a “newly rich” look 
about her, but her face was kind and she spoke, not unkindly 
but in a decided tone: “Well, you have had enough musie 
to-day; come, we must see about supper now.” I bade them 
good evening and left. 

I hoped to catch a glimpse of my fair new friend at the 
supper table, but did not. Mr. Reynolds’ family consisted 
of his wife and four daughters, one older and two younger 
than Miss Maggie . The ‘ ‘baby ’ ’ was perhaps ten years old , the 
next thirteen, Miss Maggie sixteen or seventeen, and the old- 
est sister perhaps nineteen or twenty. The family kept en- 
tirely separate from the boarders, only Mrs. Reynolds made 
her appearance occasionally, and the oldest daughter. Miss 
Bettie, sometimes tended the bar when Mr. Reynolds had to 
be out on business. Miss Bettie was not popular among the 
sailors, but Charley, the runner, had an awful case about her. 
I spent most of Monday walking up stairs and coming down 
again, hoping'accidentally (or purposely) to meet Miss Mag- 
gie, but in vain. 

After supper Brown and the rest of our shipmates were go- 
ing to a theatre — no, I would not go. The second mate, mis- 
taking the cause of my despondency, took me aside and whis- 
pered: “You come along. Here’s a dollar, that will pay 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


205 


your way. Come and go with us.” I thought more of him 
than of any of the rest; he was a good fellow and a good ship- 
mate. I declined his generosity but decided to go with them, 
n,nd that night we saw Rip Van Winkle, with the famous Jef- 
ferson as old Rip. After the play the boys wanted to go and 
have some fun The second mate, Mr. King, and I went 
back to our boarding house. I had scarcely gotten acquainted 
with him on board the Stevens. I had not been in his watch, 
besides he was an officer and I only a seaman. In the course 
of our conversation he told me that he had taken one term 
of instruction at the Nautical Institute, in Boston, and hoped 
soon to enter for another term and stand his examination for 
-a mate’s certificate. He seemed to be a different man from 
what he had been on board the Stevens. A good, solid char- 
^icter, intelligent and full of hope and ambition, and I learned 
to admire him very much. 

The next day, Tuesday, I commenced my walk up stairs and 
down again, but the little parlor was closed and I saw no sign 
-of Miss Maggie. At about eleven o’clock Mrs. Reynolds 
called me. She stood in the dining room door and as I went 
to her she said in a low tone, “Maggie wants to see you just a 
few minutes in the parlor.” I hastened up the stairs and 
met Miss Maggie standing in the door waiting. “Let’s finish 
our program now,” she said, pleasantly, and we at once be- 
gan to arrange and rearrange till the program suited her. I 
was to play two piano solos and the accompaniments to her 
«ongs. By this time the dinner bell rang and we parted to 
meet at four o’clock for an hour’s practice. 

After dinner, while in my room, I thought for the first 
time, “what can I wear?” My best suit was threadbare, and 
my heart sank within me. I had but three dollars in money 
and owed a week’s board, eight dollars. I dared not ask Mr. 
Reynolds for money, having profited by the experience of 
others. Then I inspected my coat closely. It was a dark 
blue sack coat with the elbows and shoulders faded somewhat 
and the velvet collar, once black, had turned gray. The 
pants would not do at all. My shipmates, whose clothing 
might have fitted me, were no better off than I. There was 
Mr. King — but he was nine or ten inches taller than I and 


206 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


proportionally larger, and hence was out of the question. I 
went out for a walk and stopped at every clothing store I 
passed only to admire what was entirely beyond my reach. I 
cared only for Miss Maggie, and for her sake more than my 
own, I wanted to look nice. Then I came to a large store,, 
the show window having in it a display of pants ranging in 
price from one dollar to ten dollars. I entered. I easily 
found what I wanted but the price was $5.00. “Here’s a 
good piece of goods you may have for three dollars and a 
half,” said the clerk, who seemed as anxious to sell as I was 
to buy. It was just my size, but a half dollar beyond my 
reach. I was about to leave when the clerk said: “Here, 
take them for three dollars.” I took them and paid him my 
last three dollars. 

The eventful Thursday evening came. I had saved my Inst 
stiff shirt and collar for the occasion, and I dressed up. 
“Hello!” said Mr. King as I sat down beside him at supper,, 
“you look like you are going to a dance.” Miss Maggie had 
cautioned me not speak of the party to our boarders and so I 
had to keep my secret. At last eight o’clock arrived and I en- 
tered the parlor. There were five couples seated around the 
cosy little room. Miss Maggie met me, asked me to sit down 
there, pointing to a chair, and went back to her beau. Then 
she said to the company, and her indifference quite chilled 
me, “he’s one of our boarders and a pretty good musician; 
he’ll help us in the music.” Two more couples entered and 
the program commenced. The party was made up of young^ 
girls. who lived on that street or near by, and the young men 
were, most of them, clerks. I knew two of them — one a bar- 
tender, and the other a clerk in the corner grocery store. I 
was so disappointed as I sat there for nearly an hour, playing 
at intervals, till our program was all rendered; then they 
played some games, two couples taking a game of cards. Ke- 
freshments were now served, consisting of different kinds of 
cake and wine. There was not enough of the wine and so 
the bartender sent for half a gallon of lager beer to fill out. 
But for Miss Maggie I would have been overlooked when these 
refreshments were served. I appreciated even this little 
kindness. “Can you play a quadrille?” asked one of the 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


207 


young swells. “I think I can,” I replied. “Well,” he said, 
“we’ll pay you for your trouble when we get through.” I 
watched for an opportunity to leave and while they were all 
engaged in play or conversation, I slipped out of the room 
and went up stairs and to bed, and about the last idea that 
ended my long debate that night was: “All right, let that 
fellow have her if he wants her.” 

On Friday Mr. King and I took a long walk, and I remem- 
ber witnessing a sad scene as we walked along the wharf. A 
crowd of people had gathered on a bridge, others were run- 
ning towards it when we reached the scene and learned that 
a boy had fallen into the water, and some men were just pull- 
ing him into a boat. They landed at the bridge and carried 
the little fellow into a neighboring warehouse. The child was 
dead. Mothers and fathers came running, out of breath, 
pale and anxious as they reached the scene, and relieved as 
they saw it was not their own child. Then came a woman 
pressing her way through the crowd, and with a cry of despair 
threw herself on the body of the little dead boy — she was the 
mother. The boy was about seven years old. Poor woman! 
And yet such a death is not the saddest thing in life. How 
many boys have grown up to manhood and then gone astray 
until hopelessly lost? I remember the little street urchins as 
they stood around their dead playmate and his grief stricken 
mother. They were all crying — both boys and girls — and one 
of them was telling how it happened. How they were play- 
ing along the edge of the wharf and two of them went too 
near; both fell into the water, but one caught to some ropes 
while the other drowned. Finally a policeman came, sent for 
a patrol wagon, and the mother and the dead child were car- 
ried to the nearest police station to have an inquest and get 
the truth of the case. The woman seemed very poor, but she 
was a mother and loved her child as only a mother can. 

Then Mr. King and I took a long walk up town, looked at 
the numerous monuments which abound in the parks and 
public squares and at the many church buildings, and reached 
our boarding house just in time for supper. Everything was 
astir here. Another crew had arrived — about sixteen men — 
from a long voyage, and hence with a big pay day in prospect. 


208 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


We had a fine supper and I retired early. The next morning 
I met some of the new men; they were all strangers. Mr. 
Keynolds and the outfitter had done their work; shore clothes, 
creaking boots and shoes, pinchbeck jewelry, all plainly show 
that sailors enjoy their hard-earned freedom, and also how 
they spend their money. 

I noticed one young man among the crowd less boisterous 
than the rest, and more neatly dressed, a handsome boy about 
my own age. His name was John Montgomery. “Come, 
let’s take a walk,” he said, “I want to get away from here 
for a while.” We took a long walk and during that first 
morning formed a mutual friendship which was to affect my' 
whole life. “I don’t want to stay here longer than I can 
help,” he said, “I want to go to New York or Boston.” I, 
too, was tired of Baltimore, and we began at once to look 
about for a ship in which we might take passage. That even- 
ing I met Miss Maggie again. “Did’nt we have a good time 
the other night,” she remarked, brightly. “I hope you did,” 
1 replied and passing her went down the stairs. Then I was 
sorry that I had been so short and cold in my reply; then I 
even reconsidered the party. 1 was but a stranger to them 
and perhaps had expected too much, etc. I turned back, 
walked up stairs then down again, but she was gone. I met 
John and Mr. King and told them about Miss Maggie. After 
supper Mrs. Reynolds called Mr. King and I, and to our sur- 
prise asked us to come and spend a while with the family in 
their little parlor. I asked permission to bring my new friend 
John, to which she kindly consented. By eight o’clock we 
were all gathered in the parlor. Miss Maggie was sweeter 
than ever; Miss Bettie, too, was pleasant, and we played and 
sang and spent a most delightful evening. I asked Miss Mag- 
gie about that beau of hers. “Oh!” said she, “he’s not my 
beau, he’s my cousin, and just like a brother;” and before the 
evening was passed I had forgiven her. 

The next day John was paid off. He offered to share his 
money with me but as I wanted nothing particularly, I de- 
clined. That same evening Mr. King, John and I shipped in 
the ship Paul Jones, a new ship, having just returned from 
her first voyage and going to New York (where she belonged) 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


209 


by the run. I now almost hated to leave. John, too, liked 
Miss Maggie, but we had to leave next morning, which was 
Wednesday and about the last of July, 1877. Miss Maggie 
-came into the sitting room to tell us good-bye, and so I had 
least one pleasant memory that brightened my stay in Bal- 
timore, which upon the whole had been rather dull. 

At ten o’clock we cast loose our moorings and were towed 
■down the bay. The Paul Jones was a full rigged ship, the 
largest sailing vessel I was ever in. She carried twenty-eight 
«eamen, carpenter, sailmaker and doctor before the mast, and 
in the cabin the captain, three mates and a flunky. When 
we made sail it seemed as if her mainsail was big enough to 
make an entire suit of sails for the Stevens. We were loaded 
lightly with ballast. On a large ship like this 1 found things 
different to what I had been used to. There was more dis- 
tinction between oflicers and men, and the men of each watch 
were again subdivided. There were fourteen men in each 
watch, John and I being in the starboard watch, and Mr. 
King, who was now simply Tom, being picked in the port 
watch. Our starboard watch was divided into six topmen, 
flve topsail yard men, and three crosstree men; the first hav- 
ing particular charge of the main and mizzen tops and yards, 
the next of the main and mizzen topmasts and topsails, and 
the last of the crosstree and the top-gallant yards and royals 
on the same masts. The port watch was similarly divided for 
the foremast, bowsprit and jibboom. The weather continued 
fine. John and I belonged to the topsail yard men and our 
<luties were but light. I felt real proud the first time I took 
the great wheel. Captain Jacobs was a fine seaman and loved 
his ship, and I thought how proud any man would be to com- 
mand such a ship. 

After eighteen days’ passage we reached New York, where 
■eight of our crew, including Tom (Mr. King), John and I, 
went to the boarding house kept by Mr. Nolan, on Cherry 
street, the best sailors’ boarding house I was ever in. At 
supper I sat beside one of our shipmates; I only knew him as 
Jim. He had been in our starboard watch and I had noticed 
him often for his quiet manner and his gentlemanly bearing. 
He had no chum and was nearly always alone. “Come, let’s 


210 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


lake a little walk,” he said to me, sometime after supper. 
“I want to go somewhere and I don’t want to go alone.” We 
started, he talked but little and seemed agitated. After near- 
ly an hour’s walk, we stopped at the corner of Broadway and 
about Twenty-fifth street. “Do you see that house?” he said,, 
pointing across the street to what seemed to be the home of 
wealthy people. Then he continued, as if talking to himself ^ 
“Fifteen years ago I was married in that house. Oh! that I 
could forget it! How often have 1 wished that I were dead. 
I don’t know why I should come here. Oh! God forgive me.”' 
Then he sat down on the curb-stone and wept as if his heait 
were breaking. I let him weep, the street was quiet and only 
the rolling of carriages and the jingling noise of the street cars- 
on the Bowery and adjoining streets broke the stillness of the 
night. Jim seemed to be a man of forty or forty-five years of 
age; he did not show signs of dissipation. Then I heard foot- 
steps approaching and I sat down beside him and said, as- 
gently as I knew how, “Jim, let’s go, somebody is coming up 
the street.” Then he put his arm around my neck and said 
earnestly, “Fred, my boy, you live right and be a good man 
You can if you want to. It don’t pay to live wrong.” Then 
we rose and walked silently all the way back to our boarding, 
house. The next day Jim left. I don’t know where he went 
and never knew more than I saw and heard that night. Among 
sailors, there are to be found all sorts of men, and sometimes- 
men who have lived in the highest walks of life find a refuge,, 
and, let us hope, reformation, on the great waters. Mr. King,, 
as I insisted on calling him, told us of having been shipmate 
with a similar kind of case and while in Calcutta, some Brit- 
ish naval officers came on board after him and they learned, 
that their mysterious shipmate was an English Lord. 

In every life there are some intervals that are, if not down- 
right monotonous, at least not so interesting as the rest; so in 
my sailor’s career. As I do not wish to tire, and have other 
more interesting things to tell, I have decided, during several 
voyages that now follow, to give my reader a lay off for a few 
months, while John Montgomery and I make a voyage in the 
brigantine Echo, to Brazil; another, in a bark, to the West 
Indies with a cargo of horses and mules, among which, the 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


211 


sailors do some kicking, as well as the mules; and still another 
voyage, in the bark Clarence, with Captain Miller, taking a 
general cargo to Kingston, Jamaica and bringing back raw 
sugar and rum. The weather is delightful. In New York 
there is so much that is interesting; the now famous Brooklyn 
bridge has just been begun, the first cable is stretched across. 
Coney Island is alive with fun. In a month, the largest thea- 
ters and opera houses will resume their seasons and so, for a 
few months — good-bye. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

SECOND MATE. 

Here we are in Boston. I hope my reader has enjoyed a 
winter in New York. John and I had a good voyage in the 
Clarence. Captain Miller is a tip-top seaman, a fine captain 
and a straight forward, good man. We are going back for 
another voyage. It is not regarded as good seamanship to 
make two voyages in the same vessel, but this is an unusual 
case. I am to make my first voyage as second mate, and 
have turned out my mustache — not very much of it, but it can 
be plainly seen. John rather has the advantage of me in this 
line, his hair is dark and what he lacks in the way of a real 
manly mustache, he is trying to make up for by turning out a 
pair of “sideboards,” reaching half way down his cheeks. 
John is a noble, good fellow, a southerner, his home being in 
Mobile, Alabama. He has taught me many a good lesson. I 
was on the verge of drifting into a shiftless, careless way of 
life when I first met him, and his devotion to his mother and 
home people — his father, too, being dead — and his regular 
way of writing home has done me good. I, too, have written 
home once, sometimes two or three times, from every port we 
made. I have just received a long letter from my own dear 
mother, enclosing a note from father. They are all well and 
are anxious for me to come home and get acquainted with my 


212 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


nevv little sister, Anna. We are going to make one more voy- 
age and then I’m going with John to visit his home and his 
people, then we are going to try for a trans Atlantic ship and 
he is going with me to visit my people. 

The Clarence is loading, we have several days to wait yet, 
and so ask our readers to join us and let’s have a good time 
while we can. Boston is a great city. The boarding master 
may be no better, the outfitter just as greedy and the saloon 
keeper just as selfish as in New York or San Francisco or any 
other seaport, yet even a sailor feels the public spirit and the 
religious interest that animates the Bostonians. The Boston 
Common, the Public Garden — given to the children — the in- 
stitutions for the poor and sick, the temperance halls with 
their free coffee and lunch, all testify to the interest and sym- 
pathy with the poor, the erring and the unfortunate. 

Few sailors went to Boston in that day who did not get ac- 
quainted with Father Taylor, and learn to love him. He was 
the missionary pastor at the Seamen’s Bethel. He was a Pro- 
testant, I think a Presbyterian, and no man of God ever made 
better use of his ministry than did Father Taylor among the 
sailors and the lost men and women in the shipping part of 
that great city. On Sunday and on Tuesday and Thursday 
nights the Bethel was nearly always full, and sometimes over- 
crowded with men and women, many of them dissipated and 
outcasts from what we call society. They all found here en- 
couragement and new hope, and thousands have been led to 
the truth as it is in Christ and found peace for their souls. 

“Come on, let’s go,” said John on Friday evening; as we 
both had been waiting for the hour — six o’clock — we at once 
started as the clock began to strike. We had received an in- 
vitation to take tea with Mr. and Mrs. Harvey on Hanover 
stieet. We had often been there and had always met with 
much kindness. Mr. Harvey was a lieutenant in the police 
force and Mrs. Harvey kept a cigar store, which was superin- 
tended by her brother, Mr. Billy Shehan, who was about our 
age. It was through Billy that we had become acquainted 
with Mr. and Mrs. Harvey. They had no children, but Mrs. 
Harvey had a younger sister. They had an elegantly arranged 
and furnished home on the floor above the store, and it was 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


213 


quite a resort for a select crowd of young folks, and we spent 
many happy evenings there. On this particular evening tea 
was nearly ready when we arrived ; our young ladies were al- 
ready there and we were to go to the Globe Theatre that night 
to see a young actress who was all the rage in Boston just 
then. She was about fifteen years of age, and quite a roman- 
tie story was told about her, saying she had run a^vay from 
her magnificent home to go on the stage ; that she came from 
one of the wealthiest families in New York city, etc., etc. 
The theatre was cro^vded, but as John and I had procured our 
tickets the day before, we took our time and when we arrived 
were shown to good seats. 

It was a temperance play entitled “Katie, the Hot Corn 
Girl.” The first act presented a happy, well-to-do family, 
but the father is led into drinking. The second act he be- 
comes involved, through his own neglect and the trickery of 
a false friend. The third act, ho is ruined in business, and is 
a drunkard. The family, consisting of wife and four chil- 
dren, of whom Katie is the oldest, moved into a tenement 
house. Katie sells hot corn on the streets on a cold, snow}’ 
night, and comes home sick and dies. Fifth act, the father 
saved and becomes a preacher; the scene closes with the fam- 
ily gathered around Katie’s grave. 

On Sunday afternoon we rented a sail boat and went up the 
Mystic river, spending a delightful afternoon, ending with a 
clam-bake. Monday morning comes. Mr. Otto Paris, our 
boarding master, calls us early. We pack our chests. Oh! 
how we hate to leave and go to work again, but my new pros- 
pects give us courage. I have shipped as second mate. We 
start right after breakfast, as we want to get on board an hour 
or more before the men get there. When we got on board, 
Mr. Peterson, the mate, met us at the gangway. I had been 
in his watch the voyage before, and I appreciated his gener- 
osity as he met me with a smile and said: “Good morning, 
Mr. Baars, glad to see you.” Now John and I had to sepa- 
rate, although we had promised each other not to part. He 
had to go back into the forecastle, and I followed the mate 
into the cabin, where he showed me my room. Mr. Peterson 
was a Norwegian, but had sailed for some years from Boston. 


214 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


He was about thirty-six years of age, and had just the voyage 
before completed his examination for a captain's license, and 
hoped after this voyage to receive his first command. Cap- 
tain Miller had not yet come on board, and as I waited Mr. 
Peterson gave me points as to my new duties, expressing his 
confidence in me, and I felt that he was my friend. 

Now the men came, and Mr. Peterson said: “ Go and meet 
them, and see that they have no fuss about choosing their 
bunks. ” I went on deck and saw them come over the gang- 
way. They were all quiet, though they had been drinking, 
und two or three of them were nearly drunk. John winked 
at me and smiled just a little as I told the men to “get their 
things into the forecastle and get ready to go to work,” and 
I could hardly maintain my dignity. Things worked all 
right. The captain came, bringing a pilot with him. Mr. 
Billy was on the wharf and brought a box of cigars for John 
and I, and waited on the wharf to see us off. Now the tow- 
boat came alongside. “Let go your lines,” said the captain, 
and our moorings were cast loose. 

Slowly we moved away from the wharf and out into the 
harbor, cheered by the crowd. Then we towed down the 
beautiful bay, and about 2 o’clock we made sail and entered 
the Atlantic, bound for Kingston, Jamaica. It was the first 
week of April, 1878. There was much to do, and all hands 
remained on deck till 6 o’clock, when we knocked off and 
went to supper, leaving one man at the wheel and another at 
the lookout. The captain and the mate too went below, leav- 
ing me for the first time in charge of the deck. The weather 
was clear but chilly. The sun sank into the water in the far 
west shedding its last golden rays over the vast waving sur- 
face; then the mate came up on deck, relieving me, and I 
went to my first supper in the cabin. Captain Miller still sat 
at the table. He was a man of but few words, and reminded 
me very much of my own dead father. My admiration for 
Captain Miller was only equaled by my sense of obligation 
for having thus placed me in the position of an officer. As 
we sat there at the table, he said, among other things: 

Above all things be careful about your steering; watch the 
man at the wheel closely and constantly. At the slightest 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


215 


change of the wind or weather, notify me at once or call me 
if I’m asleep. You can take in the small sails at your own 
discretion, but if it becomes necessary to reef the top-sail, 
or if a heavy squall comes along, call me. I want you to have 
nothing to do with the men but duty. Give your orders 
definitely and have them obeyed promptly and without ques- 
tion or explanation; you are supposed to know your business. 
If you give an order you must know why and the men must 
know what and how to do. If any trouble occurs, let me 
know at once. If you don’t know exactly what to do, come 
to me; don’t ask advice from any of your men. Now, Fred, 
trust me as fully as I trust you and we’ll get on all right.” 

It was nearly eight o’clock and we went on deck. All hands 
were called aft. Captain Miller had been used to big ships 
and was very dignified and formal in his manner, yet he was 
never cold. He was interested in his men, but not familiar — 
distant, but attractive. As all hands, including flunky, 
chips and the doctor, gathered at the main mast, the captain 
made a talk, stating his rules. That he expected all orders 
promptly obeyed, without question or murmuring; promised 
us watch and watch and closed with about the following, “You 
look like good, intelligent men. I shall expect you to do your 
duty as well as I do mine. If you think you are mistreated 
by the oflScers, if you don’t get enough to eat — in short, if any- 
thing goes wrong, come right to me. I shall be, at all times, 
ready to see you and talk with you. Our interests are all the 
same. We must all do what is right and then all will be well 
and we will have a pleasant voyage and a good time.” The 
watches were now picked and of course John was in my watch. 
Then eight bells struck, the off watch, as well as the mate 
and captain, all went below and I was left in charge ot my 
watch. Old man John came and took the wheel and all was 
quiet. 

At nine o’clock. Captain Miller came once more on deck, 
looked at the sky, the water, the compass and the sails; then, 
with a pleasant “good night,” went below for the night. I 
doubt whether any mortal ever felt happier than I, as I walked 
the quarter-deck during that first watch, as the officer of the 
deck, with the ship and all its contents in my charge. John 


216 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


came to the wheel at four bells (ten o’clock). I could not 
help having a few words with him. We talked in a whisper 
and he told me that they had a good crowd in the forecastle 
and that he thought we would have a good voyage. 

Several days passed bylpleasantly and gradually the stiifness 
of our manner melted. The mate, naturally full of life and 
fun, occasionally broke the solemnity with a good joke and 
even Captain Miller laughed heartily. Then we began to have 
little talks about things in general. Captain Miller, when in 
humor, swapped jokes with us and sometimes even spun us a 
yarn. One evening, after supper, I told about my first run- 
away experience in Panama and that trip through Central 
America. We sat up till ten o’clock. 

Old man John, whom we simply called old man, gave occa- 
sion for a good deal of amusement. He was a good sailor, but 
very superstitious. He had a certain way to turn in his bunk 
and a certain way to turn out. If roused suddenly and he 
happened to get up wrong, he tumbled in again and got out 
right. Old man believed firmly in ghosts and spirits and 
claimed, that at times, he saw them and held conversation 
with them. One evening Mr. Peterson, as he was going for- 
ward about nine o’clock, having staid up to listen to a yarn 
from Captain Miiler, saw old man on the lookout, pacing 
back and forth onThe forecastle head by himself, humming 
softly an old tune. To try the old man’s faith he said: “Say, 
old man, who is that up there with you walking right behind 
you?^’ Old man stopped, looked around and got down on 
deck in a hurry, and no command or entreaty could induce 
him to resume his lookout during that watch. 

After a passage of eighteen days, we reached our destina- 
tion. We saw but little of Kingston, as we were kept busy 
on board, and only went ashore after supper. John and I 
spent several pleasant evenings together. Forty convicts 
came on board to unload our cargo. They gave us a good 
deal of trouble, and it took two of our men to constantly 
watch them to keep them from stealing. They were poorly 
fed, and would grab at the scraps of hard-tack and meat 
which doctor threw to them after each meal, and sometimes 
fight over them. They even broke the bones and sucked them. 


THE STORY OE THE SEAS. 


217 


We reloaded with rum and raw sugar. While thus loading 
we had the only trouble during the voyage with our men. 
They had gotten some of the rum and nearly all of them got 
drunk. When Mr. Peterson and I searched the forecastle we 
found nearly a half barrel of rum. Of course only a few had 
done the real mischief and the rest had been led into it. The 
rum was promptly removed, the men sobered up and we had 
no further trouble. 

On our homeward passage, one evening we sighted a strange 
object. At first it looked like a rock protruding out of the 
water, but as we neared it we found it to be a wreck; only 
the hull of a large vessel, deserted and floating helplessly on 



THE WRECK. 


the water. It was getting dark. The captain thought she 
might have important papers and other valuable information 
on board, so we hove to until the next morning then put out 
a boat and the captain, myself and four men went to the 
wreck. We found that she was loaded with lumber. There 
were signs of the vessel having been on fire in the forward 
part ; she was full of water but the lumber floated her. The 
deck was very sleek and it was with great difiiculty that we 
made our way into the cabin. To our horror we found float- 
ing in the cabin the almost decayed bodies of two men, having 


218 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


been washed about in the water, which was three or four feet 
deep in there. Some of the limbs were separated from the 
bodies. One of the bodies was that of an old man with gray 
hair and a full beard, nearly white; the other that of a 
younger man — perhaps the captain and one of the mates. Had 
they been murdered? If so, by whom — by the crew? The 
boats were gone and everything else was washed off the decks. 
Perhaps the vessel had foundered in a storm. We found no 
papers nor any clew, and the matter remained a mystery. 
We returned to our vessel, which now lay close by. The wreck 
seemed to have been a bark of perhaps 900 tons. There was 
nothing that we could do that would be of service, so we filled 
our sails and left the wreck to her fate. This incident made 
a strange impression on all of us. The vessel had doubtless 
been on fire ; then there were also signs of a storm ; and the 
disfigured bodies floating about in the cabin haunted my mem- 
ory for a long time. Alas! how many a proud ship has sailed 
away from port, cheered by the crowds on the wharf, and, 
towed out of her native harbor, has spread her sails to the 
breeze. Merchants and loved ones waited long and patiently, 
but the proud ship was never heard of nor seen, and not one 
of the crew remaiu to tell the sad story of the struggle for life 
and — the wreck. 

After a voyage of two months and a few days, we returned 
to Boston. Good news awaited our captain ; he was to leave 
at once for Portland, Maine, to take charge of a big ship still 
on the stocks, superintend the rigging and finishing work, and 
then bring her to Boston. Mr. Peterson, too, was promoted, 
and became the captain of the Clarence. All the rest of the 
crew were discharged and paid off the next day. Captain 
Miller gave me a written recommendation, and our mate, now 
Captain Peterson, promised me my same position for the next 
voyage, but, a few days later, told me that the Clarence had 
to go into a dry dock and undergo repairs which would take 
two months. “I’ll keep your place,” he said, kindly, “if you 
<3an wait.” How could I wait? This was a sad disappoint- 
ment to me. John and I enjoyed part of our stay. Our 
friend, Billy Shehan, had married and was keeping house, and 
we spent several pleasant evenings with him an3 his excellent 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


219 


young wife. Mr. and Mrs. Harvey, Miss Mary Shehan (Mrs. 
Harvey’s sister) and the rest of the young folks, were as kind 
as ever. 

We staid at Mr. Otto Paris’ boarding house, but as we had 
only a small pay day we could not stay long. I applied at the 
different ship companies’ offices, but in vain. I then applied 
to the captains of different vessels but they had all engaged 
their second mate. Once I had hope, a captain promised to 
see me again and had made me an offer, but when I went again 
he asked me for my certificate, and as 1 had none, he could 
not take me. A second mate may be shipped without having 
completed his nautical examination, and no examination nor 
certificate is granted to men under twenty-one years old. I 
was but twenty, I had to wait another year, though I believe 
I could have stood it at this time. So after all my failures I 
had to ship again as plain seaman. “Never mind,” said John, 
^‘better luck next time. May be we can stand our examina- 
tion together.” 

After two weeks in Boston, John and I shipped in the brig- 
antine Ann Elizabeth, Captain Burgess, bound for the west 
coast of Africa. 


CHAPTER XXYII. 

HIS MAJESTY AND PARTY. 

The Ann Elizabeth was a brigantine of some four hundred 
tons. Captain Burgess, Mr. Bostick— the mate, Mr. Curtis— 
the second mate, doctor and six seamen made up our crew. 
It was about the middle of July when we left Boston. The 
weather was very warm even after we got out to sea. The 
scenery was beautiful as we sailed along the coast close under 
the land. The water was dotted with numerous small sails, 
mostly pleasure boats, with here and there a larger vessel. 
John, Alonza— an Italian, and myself were in the port watch. 
Mr. Bostick was rather unevenly tempered, cross and disa- 
greeable when in a bad humor and too familiar at other times. 


220 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


About the third day out, he and Alonza had a fight in the 
morning and both were battered up badly ; that evening, in the 
dog watch, he came forward, sat down by Alonza on the fore 
hatch where we had all gathered, asked Alonza for his pipe, 
smoked with the rest of us and went to the other extreme. 
Still, Mr. Bostick was not a bad man. If he offended while 
cross, as soon as he got in a better humor, which did not take 
him long, he apologized and made up for it. “It’s my way,”^ 
he said, “and I can’t help it.” 

The captain was fond of music. I had bought a new con- 
certina, John was an expert on the French harp, we made a 
drum and tambourine, and the captain, with his violin, led 
the band. He prided himself on his skill and played — thirteen 
tunes. We all soon learned those thirteen tunes and played 
them over during nearly every dog watch. Mr. Curtis, our 
second mate, had a good voice, knew a great many songs, and 
had the happy faculty of making new songs for special occa- 
sions. So time wore away till after a passage of three weeks 
we reached our first port. Cape Coast Castle. Here we re- 
mained but two days when we received orders to proceed to 
Sierra Leone. I had been doing some little carpenter’s work 
about the deck, and the captain turned over to me the little 
shop with its tools, so I became chips. Sierra Leone is a good 
sized city, and the commercial metropolis of the north and 
west coasts of Africa. The population is truly cosmopolitan, 
the numerous agents representing business firms, and com- 
panies of many different nations. All styles of architecture 
are to be seen. Sierra Leone appeared to me like a great big 
curiosity shop. We discharged part of our cargo here and 
were then ordered up the coast, to land at several small ports, 
for trading. As we proceeded south the weather became in- 
tensely warm. We went from place to place along the coast, 
like a peddler, selling mostly tobacco and provisions, such as 
canned goods, dried fish and meats; we also carried a limited 
supply of light clothing. 

I will take my reader to one of the ports where we had the 
most fun and our captain did the best business. It was a 
small port near Cape Formosa, in Lower Guinea. We lay at 
anchor some half a mile from the land. Early in the morn- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


221 


ing after our arrival, a local agent came olf together Avith 
some “royal officers,” announcing that about ten o’clock in 
the forenoon his majesty and party would visit our vessel with 
a view to trading. I had seen the Emperor of Germany at 
Hamburg several times when 1 was a boy, and my idea of a 
king was somewhat exalted. We were nearly all new in this 
business and for the first time on the coast of Africa, and 
hence were all in a flutter. About nine o’clock Ave knocked 
off work and the captain called us all aft. “Boys,” he said, 
^‘you must put on your best clothes and receive his majesty 
with royal honors.” He then gave us particular instructions 
about how to salute the king, take off our hats as he and the 
royal party came on board, etc. We AA^aited and watched 
anxiously. At last, near eleven o’clock, Ave saw their large 
barges come off. We were all rigged in our shore clothes, 
with stiff shirts and shined shoes, and were clean shaven, etc. 
At last they came alongside. The mate stood at the gangAA^ay 
and Ave had formed a half circle around it. First came a tall 
negro dressed in a military officer’s red coat and white pants, 
and having a large plume on his cork hat; he Avas the royal 
herald. Following him came his majesty the king, and her 
majesty the queen, both dressed in neatly fitting civilian 
suits. Then followed some tAA^enty generals, ministers, lords, 
ladies, etc. We took off our hats as the herald passed and 
stood there bareheaded in the broiling sun, till the entire 
party had come on board. The captain and second mate noAv 
met them on the quarter deck, boAving low. The king ex- 
tended his hand, a sign of friendship, aad his majesty form- 
ally introduced, first the queen, then his court — one by one, 
till all had passed. Each of them bowed first to the king and 
-queen, then to the captain. The doctor, aided by several of 
the men — one of Avhom Avas John, now brought glasses and a 
half dozen bottles of Avhisky and passed it round. They 
seemed to like it and all took seats and talked, and drank 
'every time the bottle was passed. 

Then came the business part. Tobacco AA^as sampled, some 
<;heAving and others smoking, the ladies partaking as well as 
the lords. Tin cans of meat, vegetables and fruit were 
opened; bolts of different kinds of cloth and dress goods ex- 


222 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


amined, and the captain received a goodly order, the goods 
to be paid for in palm oil, ivory, raw hides and gold. Once 
more the bottles were passed; some of them to save time and 
trouble, dispensing with the glasses and drinking from the 
bottles. Then all in a good humor began to leave. The king 
was a tall, well built negro with an intelligent face, a keen 
eye and long, bushy hair. He was dignified in his manner 
and displayed good sharp sense. 

The following day came the nobility. They were as formal * 
as the king, but talked more freely. Some of them were in- 
telligent and spoke good English; among them a doctor who 
had studied in England and setmed well educated. A good 
many of the lords and sirs, however, were boisterous and ego- 
tistical and believed that their tribe and country was about 
nine-tenths of the world. On the third day we had most of 
the fun. Now the common people came. They came in 
great swarms, on rudely constructed floats and in canoes.. 
We had to keep four men at the gangway to prevent the deck 
from getting overcrowded. The captain and mate weighed 
their small quantities of light-yellow gold, ivory, teeth and 
tusks of animals, or valued their parrots and monkeys, while 
the second mate and the doctor sold them tobacco, canned 
goods, etc. ; also dry goods in the way of showy, ready made 
calico dresses for the women, and brogan shoes, stove pipe 
hats, and suits of clothes made of cheap, light cotton mate- 
rial, to the men. It was a sight when they were all dressed 
up. They came on board, the men wearing simply a pair of 
knee pants, and the women a short skirt. Now the women 
were dressed up in red, green and yellow dresses, and straw 
hats with big flowers and feathers; and the men — one with a 
red or blue, long tailed calico coat, another with the pant& 
and still another with a pair of number twelve brogan shoes^ 
and a stove pipe hat and nothing else. A few had a full suit,, 
but each part a different color. This lasted for three days, 
and was the most important point on the coast. Other places^ 
were more or less like it. The business part of these pro- 
ceedings seemed to be managed mainly by local agents who 
directed the captain and controlled the people who came to 
trade. At some places we only landed the goods and the 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


223 


agents did the rest. We had left our exchange at the differ- 
ent ports and now returned and picked up, thus loading 
something in each port as we came back down the coast. We 
took in mostly palm oil. 

Our crowd in the forecastle, too, had been trading. We 
had, all together, some forty parrots, nine monkeys and vari- 
ous other curiosities. Now we returned to Sierra Leone for 
the balance of our cargo and for final orders. But before we 
reached Sierra Leone we had several cases of fever, and 
when we arrived there Georgp, of the starboard watch, and I 
were quite sick. The captain sent for a physician as soon 
as we came to anchor. The physician was a negro, but an 
educated man and knew his business. We were moved out 
on deck, a good shade spread over us, and the forecastle as 
weir as the entire vessel was thoroughly cleansed and fumi- 
gated. At first we were rather frightened, as we had heard 
much of the fatality of the African fever, but the doctor 
quieted our fears when he told us : “This fever is only a vio- 
lent type of malaria and not contagious. Good care is the 
main thing. You men are not much sick and will soon be 
better, and there is not much danger of the rest taking it.” 
For a few days I was very sick, my fever was high and the 
weather was hot, but George and I both got better. We had 
the best care our vessel afforded, and in about a week we were 
able to sit up. We had thirty-four passengers and had made 
a kind of steerage in the forward part of the hold for them. 
They weie British soldiers and had all been sick, and most of 
them lacked a good deal of being well yet. Three officers 
also took passage with us; a captain, a lieutenant and an army 
surgeon. These three with Corporal Jo, who waited on them, 
were quartered in the cabin. We were to land all the pas- 
sengers at St. Thomas. 

We were all ready for sea now, and received orders for 
Boston via St. Thomas, and about the last of July we once 
more set sail, homeward bound. Most of our passengers got 
sea-sick. There were four white men among our forward 
passengers, three of them had belonged to a company of cav- 
alry and one had belonged to the regimental band and was a 
fine musician. Ilis name was Ben and I learned to like him 


224 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


very much. Ben was an excellent young man; had been in 
Africa eight months, and feared that he was rapidly contract- 
ing consumption. He was very weak and most of the time 
unable to get about. The cavalry men got gradually better 
as we came out to sea. One of them was a tolerably old man 
and had been in African service ten years, and told us many 
a thrilling yarn about army life on the west coast. The rest 
were negroes; four of them had their wives with them; two 
of them had children — one three, another five. So they num- 
bered in all, eighteen men — infantry privates, four women and 
eight children. 

After we had been out at sea four or five days, both the 
captain and mate took the fever, and within a week, Alonza 
and two of the starboad watch and John were down with it. 
I, too, had a chill and a return of fever worse than the first 
attack. Fortunately the weather was clear and the wind 
light. Mr. Curtis and George were the only men on deck. 
Some of the passengers helped as best they could. The sur- 
geon, though not at all well himself, was kept busy. The 
corporal stayed with us in the forecastle and nursed us faith- 
fully. In a few days I got better, John too, improved. One 
evening Alonza and I were sitting on deck, still very weak 
and unable as yet to do anything. “I’m as hungry as a wolf,” 
said Alonza to me. “I am too,” I said. Convalescents from 
the fever usually have ravenous appetites, and great care has 
to be taken with what they eat. We had plenty of provisions 
and lived well at the expense of the English government, as 
the provisions for our passengers were furnished from gov- 
ernment stores. “Come here,” said Alonza, as he crawled to 
the galley. The doctor, who was now able to attend to his 
duties, had gone aft and was in the cabin, and as we peeped 
into the galley we saw about half a large, fine, boiled ham on 
a little table. Alonza got it. Then we crawled to the lee 
side of the foremast where some boxes were piled and lashed, 
here we hid and ate all of that ham — it was so good. We 
went into the forecastle, crawled into our bunks and went to 
sleep and, strange as it seems, it did us no harm; indeed, I 
felt that it helped me. 

The captain recovered and came on deck again, but the 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


225 


iHate did not improve. Most of the men, too, came on deck, 
and one by one resumed their duties. John’s fever rose 
again and medicine seemed to do him no good. 

Now a new trouble came. The silverware began to disap- 
pear, piece by piece. First the spoons, then one by one the 
knives and forks. Doctor reported to the captain, but no 
trace could be found as to the thief. Needles and pins and 
small articles began to be missed from the forecastle. At 
last, unable to bear it longer, the captain called the doctor 
aft and charged him as the person guilty of stealing the sil- 
verware. Things were serious. Just then some of the men 
went aloft and lo ! and behold ! there in every conceivable 
place, in the sheave holds, around the mast-head — everywhere 
where anything could be stuck — were silver spoons, knives 
and forks. The mystery was solved. Cako, the doctor’s mon- 
key, had been amusing himself while w^e were sick by deco- 
. rating the ship with the silverware. Pieces of it were even 
found out on the bowsprit and the jib boom. Cako was a cun- 
ning little fellow and won many friends. Several of our par- 
rots had gotten out soon after we started and were lost. 
Quite a number had died but the rest learned rapidly and 
were very interesting. Frequently, before we became accus- 
tomed to them, we would be startled by the sudden order: 
^‘All hands on deck;” or perhaps, just as we were about to 
drop off to sleep, by the shrill crowing of a rooster which 
they had learned to imitate from hearing the roosters crow, 
RS there were a number of chickens in our government sup- 
plies. So, after all, our pets were a great deal of pleasure 
iind helped to brighten those long, dreary days. 

One evening, a few days after the event of the ham, the 
<3orporal came into the forecastle and said: “One of the pas- 
sengers is dying and I fear still another will die before morn- 
ing.” It was true. About eleven o’clock the first man died, 
and about five o’clock in the morning the other, who was the 
father of the three children, died. It was a sad sight when, 
about seven o’clock, the officers and all the men who were 
able to come on deck, gathered around the dead bodies. The 
< 3 aptain, who had commanded a company of infantry, read a 
short service. The surgeon made a short talk referring espe- 


226 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


cially to the man whose family was in deep sorrow. Then 
four comrades of the dead soldiers carried the bodies around' 
to the lee gangway and committed them to their watery 
graves. 

During the forenoon of the same day I sat by John’s bed 
trying to cheer him up; the funeral had had a depressing ef- 
fect on him and he was nervous and restless. I bathed his 
face and made his bed comfortable, then asked if he did not 
want me to read something. John looked up at me, a strange,, 
sad look, and said: “Fred, I saw my mother last night.”" 
Again I tried to calm him, assured him that it had been a 
dream and that he was getting better and would soon be well. 
Then he looked up again, tears glistened in his eyes and he 
said with quivering lips, as he grasped my hand : ‘ “Fred, mjr 
friend, I’m going to die.” I tried to turn his thoughts, talked 
about Boston and our plan of going home together to see his 
mother and sisters, but that look remained on his face even , 
after he fell into a restless sleep. When the surgeon came at 
noon, I told him what John had said and expressed my fears- 
concerning his condition. With difficulty the surgeon exam- 
ined his tongue. It was black and swollen and hard as a rock^ 
“You had better stay with him,” he said to me, and he asked 
the captain to excuse me from duties on deck, which request 
was granted. The afternoon wore away. All we could da 
was to keep wet, cool cloths on his head and moisten his 
tongue and lips at short intervals. Late that night John 
looked up at me again. “We are going home, ain’t we?”" 
“Yes,” I said, “we are going home.” I hoped he was better.. 

I bathed his face and hands and he perspired freely, but af- 
ter a few moments he again sank into a stupor. 

All night I sat beside him. When the surgeon came the* 
next morning, he had us carry John up on deck where a com- 
fortable, cool place was prepared. Captain Burgess, the sur- 
geon, myself and some of our shipmates staid with John 
nearly all the time. At three o’clock in the afternoon the 
surgeon said: “He is dying, we can do nothing more to sava 
his life.” All our crew gathered around the hammock in 
which John lay, breathing quick and short, his eyes half open 
and his lips moving almost constantly. Mr. Bostick, the 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


227 


mate, who was just able to walk about, took a piece of paste- 
board and wrote on it in large letters, “God bless my mother.’^ 
He held it before John’s face; his eyes were open and he 
looked at it moved his lips, and I listened closely but he ut- 
tered no sound and we could not tell whether he was con- 
scious or not. He lingered until midnight and just as eight 
bells were struck on the quarter deck (twelve o’clock), John 
A. Montgomery breathed his last. The angel of death is no 
respecter of persons, nor of countries, nor yet of the sea. He 
gathers the harvest as God directs — from the rich as well a& 
the poor,, on the sea as well as on the land. 

At seven o’clock the next morning we made preparations 
for the burial at sea. We dressed John in his best suit of 
clothes, wrapped the body in heavy canvas, placing a piece of 
iron at its feet; then the body was placed on a wide plank 
ten feet long and carried on the starboard side of the quarter 
deck. The fore yards were braced back and the flag hoisted 
at half mast. As soon as the vessel stood still, all the crew 
and as many of the passengers as were able to walk about, 
gathered on the quarter deck. Captain Burgess stood at the 
head of the body and read “A Service for the Dead.” It was 
a sad, solemn occasion. The captain read first some Scrip- 
ture passages from the New Testament together with the 
ninetieth Psalm, then followed a short talk, closing with a 
prayer. During the prayer, even Captain Burgess broke 
down, stopped a moment, then wiped his eyes and with trem- 
bling lips concluded the reading of the prayer, which found a 
response in every heart. Then we took up the plank on 
which the body lay, the captain and mates led the way, and 
we seamen followed carrying the body, after which came the 
passengers. The procession moved slowly forward on the 
starboard side, going around the foremast, back on the port 
side of the deck as far as the gangway; then the plank with 
the body was laid across the top railing and the captain read 
the last part of the service, a short exhortation and a closing 
prayer which ended: “and now in the name of Jesus Christ 
who is the Eesurrection and the Life, we commit the body to 
the Deep.” Then the inboard end of the plank was slowly 
raised till the body slid off, feet foremost into the sea. 


228 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


John was one of the noblest young men I ever knew. A 
true American, educated and refined, far above his surround- 
ings, and one of the best friends I ever had. And as I write 
these sad lines he seems to be near me still, after all these 
years, and that solemn funeral is again vivid in my mind as I 
mourn his untimely death and the loss of his companionship. 

When we reached St. Thomas, in the West Indies, some of 
our passengers were still sick. Ben, the musician, had to be 
carried on shore and, I fear, did not live long. I took this 
opportunity of mailing a letter, and wrote a long letter to 
John’s mother, telling the details of his sickness and death. 
We remained in St. Thomas only one day, landing our pas- 
sengers and replenishing our supply of fresh water and pro- 
visions, then proceeded on our passage to Boston. The 
weather was fair and the wind good. As the breezes of the 
cooler latitudes fanned us gently and we were relieved of the 
strain occasioned by sickness and passengers, we all got bet- 
ter except Mr. Bostick, who still remained feeble. We 
reached Boston safely about the middle of September, and 
were moored alongside Roberts & Mansfield’s wharf, from 
which we we had departed. 

Nearly all of our crew, including Mr. Curtis, our second 
mate, went to the boarding house of Otto Paris. As we were 
paid off Captain Burgess handed me a letter which had been 
addressed in the care of the owners of our vessel. It was 
from Mrs. Montgomery, John’s mother. It was a sad letter, 
such as only a bereaved mother could have written. John 
had been the only boy in the family. I wrote again, and ac- 
cording to request, gave a more detailed account of John’s 
life and habits, his hopes and plans for the future, and es- 
pecially his last moments. A eloud of sorrow gathered over 
€ven our little circle of Boston friends. I felt lonesome, and 
after spending most of my pay day in clothing, at once started 
out to look for another ship, with the hope of shipping as 
second mate. I applied at the oflSce of Roberts & Mansfield, 
where Captain Burgess had given me a good recommendation. 
I also presented my papers from Captain Miller, and Mr. 
]\lan8field promised to give me a place if he could. 

I spent several pleasant evenings at our boarding house. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


229 


Mrs. Paris was an intelligent woman; her sister, Miss Lizzie, 
was full of life, but I liked best a friend of Miss Lizzie, a Miss 
Mary Johnson. She was a pretty, sweet girl, with large blue 
eyes, and she was a fine musician. She lived in Chelsea, 
across the bay from Boston, and I called on her several times — 
indeed nearly every evening — and we were getting along 
nicely, when one afternoon I received a message from Mr. 
Mansfield to come to his office and be ready to ship as second 
mate in another of their vessels bound for Africa. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE GEORGE E. THATCHER. 

It was a Sunday afternoon about the first of October, 1878, 
Miss Lizzie and Albert and Miss Mary and I walked leisurely 
down Washington street, entered the Common and found a 
shady seat in a quiet part of this favorite park. It was a 
beautiful autumn day. A gentle breeze whispered softly 
through the foliage of the trees ; crowds of people promen- 
aded up and down the winding paths; children played around 
the edge of the pond that reflected the clear bright sky, and 
some of the little ones, watched by their nurses, fed the snow- 
white swans that swam about in the water or basked in the 
silver sprays of the fountain. Over all, the sun shed its 
golden rays with an Indian summer’s glow. 

Albert was a new comer among us, a recent homeward- 
bounder, and spent his money freely. He told quite a 
romantic story about himself — that he was the son of a prom- 
inent and wealthy family in Stettin, Germany, had fallen in 
love with the beautiful daughter of a Count, whose name he 
dare not mention, and while still a student in the University 
of Heidelberg, they had planned a secret marriage. The plot 
had been discovered and in consequence he had been forced 
to leave the country. Whether his story was true or not 
(most likely not), he was a good social companion. He was 


230 


THE STORY OF IHE SEAS. 


well educated; indeed his knowledge of books, of literature, 
of art, and his general information was so far beyond the 
rest of us as to appear unlimited. He talked with a kind of 
familiarity of the German Imperial family and the courts of 
various German petty sovereigns as if he had really lived 
among them. He conversed with a readiness and volubility 
about anything and everything so that we were kept in almost 
constant astonishment. Be&ides this, he was a handsome 
young man of twenty-five or six, possessed a rich baritone 
voice and was a good musician. Miss Lizzie was simply car- 
ried away with him and we all liked him, till he told his 
stories over again with variations and we lost confidence in 
him. On this Sunday afternoon we talked until it was late — 
too late for supper at home — and so stopped at a restaurant 
and had a lunch. On our way home we separated, Albert 
and Miss Lizzie going to the boarding house, and I going 
with Miss Mary to see her across the Bay to Chelsea. As we 
took our seats in the ferry boat I remarked, “I have shipped 
as second mate.” I had for some time been waiting for her to 
ask for this information. “Oh! you hav,e?” she said pleas- 
antly, “What vessel are you going on?” “The George E. 
Thatcher,” I replied. “The George E. Thatcher?” she said 
with sudden interest and seemingly much surprised. “Y-jes,” 
I said, “do you know the vessel?” Then she laughed and said, 
“I should say I do I She is a splendid vessel and I know you’ll 
have a good time.” “Do you know anyone on board of her?” 
I asked again with my curiosity aroused. “Yes,” she replied 
indifferently, “I know you.” By this time we had crossed 
the bay. It was but a short walk to her home. “Good- 
night,^’ I said as I held her hand. We stood in front of the 
house. “Good-night,” she said. “May I see you to-morrow?” 
“No,” she replied, but in a way that said volumes. “We 
leave Tuesday and I shall see you no more?” “May be not,” 
she said again in that same coquettish way. “Say, Miss 
Mary, wont you write to me sometimes while I’m gone?” 
Again comes that short, challenging reply: “No; what’s 
the use in writing?” “May I wH’ite to you?” “You can if 
you want to. I must go now.” With that she started up the 
stone steps. “Then good-bye,” I said with all the earnestness 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


231 


of which I was capable. “Good-bye,” she said, and rushed 
into the house and was gone. I walked slowly back to the 
:ferry, lost in thought about the last voyage with its sickness. 
The sad death of my shipmate and my consequent loneliness 
had had a depressing influence over me. I had been dis- 
couraged and almost wished to give up the sea and find some- 
thing else to do. But the mists were clearing away. I thought 
I could see the dawn of a new star of hope — Miss Mary — and 
that brought inspiration for new courage and new plans. 

On Monday I was busy all day getting ready to leave. In 
the evening I went to see Mr. and Mrs. Harvey to tell them 
good-bye. I had given them one of my parrots. They had 
tried to teach him a new vocabulary, but so far Polly could 
only say “get out” and some words rather unsuited for family 
use, which he had learned from the sailors while on board 
the Ann Elizabeth. I regretted I had not kept one for Miss 
Mary but, like the rest of the men, I had sold all I had, soon 
after we landed, for five dollars apiece, thus raising some 
ready money. On Tuesday morning, soon after breakfast, I 
left our boarding house and went on board. Both the cap- 
tain and mate were there and met me cordially, and whom 
should I meet on the quarter deck but Miss Mary. She met 
me with a smile, and Captain Johnson introduced her to me 
as his daughter. This accounted for her manner on Sunday 
evening. Moreover, I learned a few facts that led me to be- 
lieve that I owed my position partly to her intercession. I 
could not stop and talk to her. There was much to be done, 
and I went to work at once. 

Some time later the men came on board, among whom were 
George and Alonza, my former shipmates on the Ann Eliza- 
beth. As the towboat came alongside. Miss Mary and two 
jounger children bade good-bye, first to the captain, their 
father, then to the mate and me. A crowd stood on the 
wharf and cheered us as they did when we left the voyage 
before. I hoped from my heart that we would now have a 
pleasant voyage. Miss Mary looked sad and wept as we 
moved away from the wharf, but looked up again as we were 
to\\ed out of the harbor, and she and the two children with 
her threw their last farewell kisses — at the captain. 


232 


THE STOKY OF* THE SEAS. 


About four o’clock in the afternoon we passed close around 
Cape Cod, and with all sails set entered the Atlantic. The 
George E. Thatcher had been built for the United States 
Government and was used during the war as a man of war. 
She was solidly built and still retained her port holes, but 
they were closed with tight fitting shutters. She was three 
masted, schooner rigged, and carried about six hundred tons 
ot general cargo. 

Captain Johnson was a man of near sixty, fully six feet tall, 
erect, and showing in every feature physical health and 
strength. He was free in his intercourse with the oflficers and 
sometimes talked freely with the men, yet he was never fa- 
miliar. The mate, Mr. Anderson, was a Norwegian. He was 
rather small, light complexioned, and had a small mustache. 
I felt rather elated that mine was as big as his though he was 
by four or five years my senior. Mr. Anderson was quick 
and active, constantly on the alert, a fine ofiacer and a good 
seaman. Our doctor, Jackson, was a negro, rather slow at 
times, but a good cook. Richard, our cabin boy, was a Bos- 
ton lad, fourteen years old. His father, mother and little 
brother brought him on board and stood on the wharf as we 
moved away, just as my own dear father, mother and little 
sister had done when I first left them — a cabin boy. It seemed 
to me now, long, long years ago. Six seamen were in the 
forecastle, and I had in my watch George (we now called him 
Liverpool as there was another George on board), Alonza, 
that was not his real name but something like it and easier to 
pronounce, and John Nilles, who was known as Hannes. 
Alonza was an Italian, a good shipmate, and he and George 
had been my shipmates on the Ann Elizabeth, and now my 
watch was formed of these two and Hannes. The port watch 
was also made up of three good men. Brown, Dublin and 
Frenchy. 

The wind was not quite in our favor. We lay toby the wind, 
heading about south-south-east, with a stiff breeze, and as I 
came on deck to take charge of my first watch, I needed my 
monkey jacket (overcoat). The captain stayed on deck till 
four bells (ten o’clock), talkingfreely. I told him about my 
sickness on the Ann Elizabeth and my dread of the fever. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


233 


“Oh! you’ll never have it again, he remarked confidently,” 
“and it will be cooler and much more pleasant this trip.” I 
truly hoped to win Captain Johnson’s full confidence and 
silently determined to do my utmost. Just before I left 
Boston, I received another letter from my native home. It 
was written by sister, and I was much troubled about mother, 
whose health, sister wrote, had for months been on the de- 
cline. However, she assured me that she was improving now, 
and hoped soon to be entirely well. She also wrote me about 
a new little brother named Peter, and about other things, 
among them that my father had been forced to give up his 
position with the gas company on account of failing health 
and had launched into the real estate business. That they 
were all doing well, etc. This led me to think of my sainted 
father, whose memory I cherished above everything on earth ; 
who was still my ideal of life. Oh! how I wished that he 
might have seen me as second mate. I was approaching my 
twentieth birthday. Next spring, immediately after this V03- 
age, I hoped to pass my examination and, if possible, obtain 
my second mate’s certificate without having to stay there, and 
so might remain with Captain Johnson in the same vessel. 
After two more years, as the law requires, 1 would pass my ex- 
amination as chief mate, and then strive for the final goal — a 
master’s certificate, hoping in a few more years to be intrusted 
with the command of a ship. Captain! how nice that word 
sounded, and how much nicer still it sounded as Captain 
Frederick Baars. Then Miss Mary’s picture flashed into my 
mind — but the man at the wheel called my attention to the 
time, it was twelve o’clock and 1 struck eight bells. Mr. 
Anderson came on deck with “Oh! I’m so sleepy.” I gave 
him the orders and went below. I had a neat little state- 
room and a comfortable bunk where 1 laid down and was 
soon asleep. Happy dreams of youth! Beautiful castles in 
the air! Ah, well, no castle was ever built on earth that was 
not first built in the air. Thank God for the beauty of ro- 
mance with its hopes and its bright anticipations. It does us 
good when it serves us as an incentive to greater exertion and 
a nobler life. 

Captain Johnson believed in young men. He helped me 


234 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


with my studies in which I hoped to pass my examination at 
the end of the voyage, and gave me good wholesome advice 
along other lines. He showed his interest in all the men and 
looked after their health and comfort in the forecastle, as well 
as after their conduct. Brown and Liverpool were the only 
two who would not pledge themselves to quit swearing, and 
while some of the rest occasionally broke their pledge, still 
the pledge did them good. One Sunday morning — the first 
Sunday out — Captain Johnson remarked at the breakfast 
table: “I believe in the Bible. I have read it much during 
the last few years, and my advice to you young men is, read 
the Bible. It is the best book in the world.” We discussed 
the Bible and its teachings for some time. The captain be- 
lieved in the life and the character of Christ and ended the 
discussion with: “I believe everything that is in the good 
book, whether I understand it or not. There are a good 
many things in the nautical almanac that I don’t understand. 
I don’t know how those figures are gotten, what theories are 
behind them, nor what the hidden causes and forces are that 
produce the various astronomical phenomena — that’s none of 
my business — I simply accept the figures as laid down in the 
logarithm. I don’t worry as to whether the figures aye right 
or not, nor do I stop to ask who made those calculations. .So 
with the compass; I don’t know just how it works, but I be- 
lieve it is right, and I have never yet missed my reckoning 
nor failed to reach my port. So with the Bible. You just be- 
lieve what it says and steer through life by its figures and 
you’ll not miss your port on that other shore.” As I laid 
down in my bunk, it being my morning watch below, I got 
out that little Testament and also the Gospel Hymn Book 
given me by the missionary at the Seamen’s Bethel during my 
first visit to Glasgow. 

The wind, which had been rather against us so far, now 
changed to a more favorable direction and we made good 
time, steering southward as the captain had decided to make 
a southern passage; that means to sail down the American 

coast till abreast of Florida — or perhaps as far as Cuba 

then cross the gulf stream and head for Africa, instead of 
steering straight across from Boston. The weather staid fair 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


235 


till the 17th of October, then it became rather cloudy and 
the wind unsteady. It was Friday, in the evening, that Cap- 
tain Johnson ordered me to take in the small sails.. As I 
came on deck for the middle watch (twelve to four) the sky 
was clear and the stars twinkled brightly through the night 
air. Then the captain came on deck. “I feel strange and' 
can’t sleep,” he remarked as he came over to the weather 
side where I was pacing up and down. I ventured to suggest 
that perhaps he did not feel well and that 1 hoped he would 
not get sick. “Oh! I’m all right,” he said again after a pause, 
then continued, “I’m bothered about the barometer. It 
rises and falls at short intervals. I’m sure we are going to have 
a change of weather within twenty-four hours.” Then he 
went to the stern, leaned over the railings and seemed lost in 
thought. We had made a southern passage purposely to 
avoid the sudden gales which prevail in the higher latitudes 
during September and October, and as we had reached the 
latitude of about 30®, I believed that we were safe and so 
pursued my own meditations. At four o’clock the mate came 
on deck, the captain had gone forward, and I told Mr. An- 
derson about the captain’s restlessness and fears. He too, 
had noticed the barometer but remarked: “We are crossing 
the gulf stream, and the barometer is never steady while 
you’re in it.” I was feeling remarkably well when I went 
below, and fell asleep almost as soon as I had gotten into my 
bunk. 

When I came on deck again, at eight o’clock, the captain 
had not been below. He went down now, but only to eat a 
a light breakfast, and as soon as came on deck again he asked 
the mate to remain on deck and told me to call out the watch 
as soon as they had had their breakfast. Then he said to us: 
“Do you see that cross swell on the water?” As we looked 
closely the cross swell, like a counter current making its way 
across the regular swell of the waters, could be seen, but only 
now and then. “I want you to take in the outer jib and 
the topmast staysails, then single reef the foresail and main- 
sail and put a double reef in the mizzen. This took us until 
ten o’clock. The captain now went below and left orders to 
call him at once at the first sign of any change in the weather 


236 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


or the temperature. He slept until 'twelve o’clock and tho 
rest did him good. 

At two o’clock the barometer fell. “Take in your foresail 
and mainsail,” he said. The sky was clear and there was but 
little wind, but the cross swell had increased steadily, and we 
all now knew that a storm was coming. All hands were rest- 
less and worked in silence. The great sails were safely furled 
and only the double reefed mizzen, fore, main and mizzen 
staysails and jib were standing. “Clear the deck and see that 
everything is secure,” said the captain to me, and while we 
were at work putting extra lashings on the water casks and 
boats, the wind suddenly died out entirely and our vessel lay 
helplessly rolling on the waves that were rising higher and 
higher. At about half past four, great black clouds rolled 
up from the east. In a few minutes the sky was dark. Then 
for a moment we could see, in the direction of the north-east,, 
the white foam as it was driven along the surface of the 
crested waves. It roared like thunder; the hurricane struck 
us as if discharged from the mouth of a cannon, our vessel 
staggered and her planking creaked as she lay over on her 
side. Bravely did she rise up again, and again I saw the 
masts look like red hot iron, while blue flames flickered up 
and down the masts and rigging, then flew off in tattered 
fragments and were lost in the darkness. 

I had seen this once before, off Cape Horn. We had been 
completely submerged. We had all lain flat on deck, firmly 
holding to some secure object to keep from being washed 
overboard. There was a tremendous strain on our mizzen ; 
it threatened to tear the mast out of her, but it was our only 
hope of getting the ship’s head to the wind and sea. Slowly 
the head moved round till she faced the elements. The waves 
rose like mountains, then dashed over the bow and swept 
over the whole length of the ship, carrying with them every- 
thing that was in the way. The captain now got up from the 
deck, told the mate to go forward and me to go to the main 
pumps and see that they were ready for use. As I reached 
the main deck I missed the four large water casks and one of 
the boats which had been lashed on the main hatch just be- 
fore the mainmast. The remaining boat was cut loose at one 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


237 


end, and I went at once to work with the men of my watch 
to secure it. The Thatcher had a hurricane deck and hence 
no bulwarks, only a low railing around the deck. The cap- 
tain had gone forward. The mate came running aft and told 
me to come and help him get some tarpaulin out of the after 
hatch; that one of the port holes had been knocked in, leav- 
ing an open hole three feet square, and the water was pour- 
ing in. He got the tarpaulin and ran forward. A moment 
later a terrilic sea struck the bow with fearful force, literally 
knocking the vessel from under us, and three of us who stood 
near the mainmast, fell sprawling on the deck. The great 
mass of water rushed along the deck, washing Liverpool and 
myself heavily against the main rigging where we caught, but 
Frenchy was hurled overboard. The ship rolled to starboard, 
and Frenchy having been washed over on the port side, 
seemed as if hopelessly lost, but, as if by a miracle, the ship 
rolled back over to port with a lunge. Alonza threw Frenchy 
■a rope, which he caught; Alonza and Liverpool then grabbed 
him and we pulled him in again. He had been hurt, so we 
hurriedly dragged him to the mainmast and with a rope tied 
him quickly to the pin rail to save him from the next wave. 
It was done none too soon. Wave after wave swept the 
deck. About half past five the mate came running aft again. 
He was bareheaded and with a wild look on his face he called 
to me: “Where is the captain?’’ I did not know, had not 
seen him since he went forward. Then the mate and I went 
up on the quarter deck and not finding the captain there, Mr. 
Anderson burst out crying: “Oh! good God, Captain John- 
son is lost.” For a moment there was a lull in the storm. 
The wind ceased ; only the murmuriug of the sea was heard as 
if satisfied with its spoil. The clouds slightly scattered, and 
we had the first clear view of our struggling vessel. The rail- 
ing was washed away all round, water casks and extra spars 
gone, and the deck, from fore to aft, was swept clean. Again 
clouds darkened the sky and the wind set in anew, now set- 
tling into a steady gale. We had all gathered together. “The 
forecastle head is all smashed in,” said Brown. “I know it,” 
«aid the mate, then ordered all hands on the quarter deck. 
“Our greatest danger just now, is right here,” he said, point- 


238 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


ing to the mizzen Then he let go the peak halyards, but the 
sail would not come down, the force of the wind keeping it 
spread. “Get the try-sail,” he called out. It was already on 
deck, as Captain Johnson had brought it up himself just be- 
fore he went forward. It was a small, three-cornered sail, 
which we bent on the outside of the mizzen rigging, then cut 
the mizzen in several places; from the cuts it split all the way 
up and blew away in shreds. As soon as we saw that the try- 
sail held the vessel’s head to the wind we all went forward, 
save one man at the wheel. Here was a sad sight; the jib- 
boom and bowsprit broken off, but still hanging to the gear. 
We cut the gear with axes and so cleared the head of the ves- 
sel, but the forecastle deck was stove in and nothing could be 
done now to cover it, and for the first time I felt my heart 
sink. The ship could not live long in this condition, though 
it still might be possible to outlive the storm. It was pitch 
dark and the wind still blew a living gale. We manned the 
pumps and had just started to pump when the man came from 
the wheel with a cry of despair. “The rudder is gone.” 
“Never mind,” said the mate, “keep the pumps going. We 
are making no headway and don’t need the rudder now.” 

We had not pumped more than twenty minutes when an- 
other mountain-like wave came along, lifted the head of the 
Thatcher high into the air, then she toppled over and plunged 
headlong into the trough and was for a moment completely 
buried in the surging waters. When she rose her head was 
thrown off the wind and the gale struck the try-sail with its 
full force. It was more than she could stand. With a crash 
the weather rigging tore loose from the bolts, the mast broke 
off just above the deck, and rigging, sail and mast were hurled 
into the sea. Brown, who stood near me, threw himself down 
on deck and cried like a child; others did the same, or else 
stood pale as death, realizing that now all hope was lost. 

The head of the vessel swung round till we lay broadside 
to the wind. The waters lashed across our deck, wave after 
wave. I realized that we stood now face to face with death, 
and that my time was short. Despair seized hold of me. Oh ! 
I could not, I would not die. Then I cried to God as I never 
did before— nor, perhaps, since. Eeason was for a time de- 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


239 


throned. I saw my father, he talked to me calmly. Then I 
saw him on his ship and again I saw him fall overboard and 
drown, and his last words, “son, do your duty,’’ rang in my 
«ars. Then I saw my mother. She was weeping, and seemed 
to be looking for me as she walked across the deck. I saw 
my little sister as I knew^her when a child, her hair flowing 
loosely in the wind. She called to me. I could hear her 
voice and the sweet, familiar voice of my mother as plainly as 
I had ever heard it in my life. Then my whole past life 
flashed through my mind in crowded events. 

“Get up, men, get up,” shouted a voice close to me. It 
was the doctor, our colored cook ; this roused me and I looked 
up. The fore and mainmasts were jerking from one side to 
the other, with the rolling of the ship, till, with a fearful 
crash, the starboard rigging gave way, and both masts fell 
heavily over the port side, bursting open the main deck. The 
doctor had kept himself hid a good part of the time, helping 
only here and there as he was called, but he had been at the 
pumps most of the time since the mizzenmast went overboard, 
the galley with all its contents going at the same time. That 
was about eleven o’clock ; it was now two o’clock, a. m. I 
will do the darkey justice; he was the hero of the hour. No 
sooner had the masts fallen, tearing up the main deck, than 
he took the end of a coil of new rope, lying on the quarter 
deck, tied it securely to the boat, then took Kichard, the 
cabin boy — poor little fellow, he was scared out of his wits — 
tied him in the boat, and with a hatchet cut the boat loose. 
The next wave washed it off the deck into the sea. “Come 
on! come on!” he shouted as he ran aft again. We had dis- 
covered his object. Mr. Anderson had tied in the stern of 
the Thatcher the rope that now held the boat. One by one 
Ave slid down the rope, pulling ourselves through the water to 
the edge of the boat. We were all on the same side, and in 
attempting to get into it, we turned the boat over upon us, 
but as if some unseen hand Avas helping, it turned up again 
Avith all of us inside. It Avas done none too quickly. The 
Thatcher was fast sinking when Ave left her. We noAv cut 
the rope and left our ship to her fate. 

It Avas still dark but the wind now abated and in half an 


240 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


hour after we got into the boat the sky cleared. It was no 
small task to float our boat as she was full of water, but after 
much hard work bailing out water with our hands, we got the 
water out and stopped the leaks, where the side of the boat 
was smashed, with strips torn off our shirts. We soon had 
her in good floating condition. The doctor had thrown a bar- 
rel, little more than half full of hard-tack, into the boat, also 
a ham, and tied them to a seat. The barrel had a top to it 
and so now we had a ham and some wet hard-tack. The mate 
had also grabbed and brought with him his sextant and the 
ship’s chronometer. 

By three o’clock the sky was clear and the wind changed to 
the south and came in a gentle breeze and the stars peeped 
down from the heavens above, so bright and beautiful, as if 
rejoicing in our rescue. The mountain-like waves, too, grad- 
ually changed into gracefully sloping hills on which our boat 
gently rose and fell. Tired and worn out, almost to exhaus- 
tion, we laid down on the bottom of the boat and one by one 
went to sleep. The silent watchers of the night kept our vigil 
and we were “rocked in the cradle of the deep.” I was 
awakened by the talking and moving about of the men by my 
side. It was broad daylight. I rose up shivering with cold, 
as my clothes were still wet. 

It was a beautiful, clear morning. A calm reigned over the 
sea. The sun was just rising above the eastern edge of the 
water and with hearts full of gratitude we welcomed the 
golden rays and the warmth, as we had never done before. 
Doctor sat in the bow of the boat, tears trickled down his 
cheeks, as they did down other faces. None of us had spoken 
a word for some time past; then doctor broke the stillness of 
that beautiful morning with his clear, rich voice, singing: 


“ What a friend w e have in Jesus, 

All our sins and griefs to bear ; 
What a privilege to carry 

Everything to God in prayer. 

Oh, w^hat peace w'e often forfeit. 

Oh, what needless pain we bear— 
All because we do not carry 
Everything to God in prayer,^’ 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


241 


By the time he reached the third line, every voice joined in 
that sweet song. He knew only one verse, but we sang that 
over and over again, and through it breathed our prayer into 
the morning air with a fervor that could only have come from 
the depths of our hearts. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE RESCUE, 

“Water, water everywhere — 

nor any drop to drink.” 

It was Sunday — the most solemn Sunday of my life. At 
about noon, we each took a slice of ham, agreeing that we 
would eat no more until the next day at noon. The hard-tack 
was scarcely fit to eat, being soaked in salt water, and oh, how 
we suffered of thirst that Sunday afternoon. We tried to 
divert our attention by rehearsing the storm and all that 
happened. Captain Johnson was referred to with great ten- 
derness. The mate, who saw him last, said, “I asked him to 
leave the forecastle and that I would do all that could be 
done. Then he went down on the main deck and was stand- 
ing by the weather side leaning over the railing to look at the 
planking of the bow; then I went down into the forecastle 
again to see if that port hole was stopped up all right. Just, 
as I had gone below, that heavy sea struck us, breakiog in the 
forecastle deck. I saw that Brown and Hannes were all right 
and rushed on deck. The spars were gone, having swept the 
railing with them, then I ran aft to see about the captain.” 

“I was in the cabin,” said Richard, “trying to set the table, 
and when she shipped that heavy sea it knocked the cabin 
door in and the first thing I knew — I knew nothing — but was 
swimming in the cabin, my dishes smashed all to pieces and 
everything in the pantry upset. So I made for the deck, as 
wet as a drowned rat.” Then the doctor had the floor, and 
said, “I knowed we was lost when that mizzen mast went 


242 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


overboard. I kept my eye on that boat and from time to 
time put things in it. I had this ole barrel lashed and put do 
ham in it ’fore that big sea struck us and was carrying an arm 
full of canned goods when I saw that sea coming. I dropped 
the cans into the boat and held on to the boat lashings, as she 
struck, and my ole galley toppled over and just missed strik- 
ing the boat. I tell you,” he said with emphasis, “I tell you 
if that galley had struck the boat, we would all be with our 
captain.” Thus, each man told his story and, for a time,, 
we lived the storm over again and forgot our thirst. 

The sun was setting, the sky was clear and a dead calm stilt 
rested over all that we could see. The night passed slowljr 
away. Next morning, we were frightened by Frenchy. Poor 
fellow — he was stark crazy. He laughed wildly and shouted 
and talked French. About ten o’clock that morning, he 
jumped out of the boat, so quick and unexpectedly, that it 
was done before we could prevent it. We pulled him back 
into the boat and he lay unconcious. Toward noon we ate 
the last of the ham and some of the hard-tack, that had dried 
by this time, but our thirst was agonizing. 

In the afternoon, a fresh breeze sprang up from the east^ 
We had a piece of a blanket and Dublin gave his oil cloth 
coat; out of these we rigged a small sail, using an oar for a 
mast. Mr. Anderson steered with another oar and our boat 
was much more steady. Another long night! During thi& 
Monday night, I believe we suffered most. I have heard of 
stories in dime novels, about shipwrecked sailors casting lots,, 
and then killing the one to whom the lot fell and drinking 
his blood and eating his flesh. Such a thought never entered 
our minds and I don’t believe such a thing ever happened in 
reality. 

On Tuesday, my tongue was swollen, my lips dry and the 
inside of my mouth parched. All the men were in a similar 
condition. Richard, the cabin boy, stood it better than the 
rest. He slept more and seemed to suffer less. Frenchy was 
perfectly wild and got out of the boat a second time on Tues- 
day evening, but again we saved him. Every now and then, 
someone burst out, crying aloud and gave way to despair. A 
second time we all stood face to face with the grim monster — 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


243 


death a death more horrible than going down with the 
sinking ship — death of starvation. 

On Wednesday, there was a momentary ray of hope. We 
sighted a vessel, but she was too far away for therh to see us 
and hope again gave way to despair as the ship was lost out of 
sight. We were sailing due west, but to reach land was hope- 



WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE: ETC. 


less, as we were fully a thousand miles from any hind. I don’t 
remember much of Wednesday night. We were unable to talk 
much, on account of our swollen tongues and parched mouths, 
and a kind of stupor was falling over us. Early Thursday 
morning, doctor uttered a cry of joy; it roused me. “Sail — 
oh, sail — oh!” shouted he, in hoarse, muffled tones. The ves- 
sel was plainly in sight, but going from us. Oh! God help 
us. Would she, too, pass us by and leave us to perish? We 
exerted all our strength, trying to attract her attention. Now 
she tacked and oh, joy, she bore straight down upon us! 
They saw us, came close to us, then backed their main yards, 
lowered a boat and came to our rescue. As I heard the 
voices of the men in the approaching boat, a thrill of joy 
filled my heart and I remembered nothing more. 

The vessel that picked us up was the Norwegian bark Terzo. 


244 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


The captain and crew did all that could be done for us. They 
gave us clothing and the best and most nourishing food their 
vessel afforded. They were bound for New York and after a 
pleasant passage we were landed in New York City, on Friday, 
November 15, about ten o’clock at night, and were temporarily 
cared for at the Sailors’ Home. We were cordially received 
and assigned to good rooms. We had just gone to bed when 
we were roused again. A crowd of men rushed into our room, 
occupied by Liverpool, Alonza, Brown and myself. They lit 
the gas, sat down on the edge of the bed and beseiged us with 
questions. They were newspaper reporters and they held a 
perfect examination. Each of us was asked to tell the story. 
They took up a collection among themselves, amounting to 
two dollars, for each of us four. They stayed and kept ask- 
ing questions till after two o’clock; then Brown got mad. 
“Get out now and give us a rest.” The reporters laughed, 
but got out and left. Brown bolted the door and declared he 
would have no more interview till to-morrow. We were not 
disturbed any more during the rest of the night. As we came 
down to breakfast, quite a crowd of people waited in the hall 
to see us. Most of them had come merely out of curiosity ; a 
few reporters held another interview, and immediately after 
breakfast, the superintendent of the home conducted us to 
his office, where three gentlemen were waiting to see us. They 
were a committee from the Seamen’s Friend Society and 
wished to know what we needed. We needed everything, as 
could plainly be seen. We had left the Thatcher in haste, 
casting off shoes and coats so as to safely reach the boat, and 
during those dreary days and nights, we were bare headed and 
with only a flannel shirt, pants and underclothing and no 
shoes. The crew in the Terzo had generously shared their 
small stock of dry goods with us, but they had little or noth- 
ing beyond what they really needed. The committee left, but 
returned about eleven o’clock and took us to a clothing store, 
near by, and bought for us a suit of undergarments, a suit 
of clothing (fairly good), shoes and hats. Some of us wished 
to pay them back, later on, but the chairman of the committee 
told us that the society was formed for this purpose and they 
would also pay our board for two weeks at the Sailors’ Home. 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


245 


During the afternoon, a telegram came from Roberts & 
Mansfield, Boston, requesting us to come at once to Boston. 
The New York papers contained the story of the wreck. I 
append one verbatim, as it appeared in the New York Herald, 
Saturday, November 16, 1878. 

“LOSS OF THE THATCHER! 

Springs a Leak and Founders in a Storm ! 

SAVED IN A SAILBOAT I 

Terrible Sufferings and Providential Rescue of the Crew. 

The accumulated misfortunes and miseries of shipwreck, 
bodily suffering and loss of goods, were pathetically related 
yesterday by Carl Anderson, chief mate of the American 
schooner Geo. E. Thatcher, which was lost on the 19th of 
October last, while on a voyage between Boston and the west 
coast of Africa. She went down in latitude thirty-two degrees 
north and longitude thirty-five degrees west. 

The Thatcher was a three masted schooner of some 500 
tons burden and hailed from Boston. She left that port on 
the 5th of October last on the way to Almina and interme- 
diate stopping places along the west coast of Africa, taking 
on board a cargo of rum, tobacco and provisions. The voy- 
age went on pleasantly, the weather being moderately favor- 
able till the thirteenth day out (October 18th), when it began 
to blow very hard from the north-east. The wind continued 
to increase in force and fury all that day and in the afternoon 
it blew a perfect hurricane. The force of the tempest lashed 
the waves to whiteness. They came on with the strength of 
moving mountains and their jagged crests were dashed into 
icy spray by the driving blasts. The mate, who told the 
story, spoke with a Norwegian accent, and as he went on to 
describe the fearful scene of the storm, his shaggy brows be- 
came contracted over his flashing blue eyes, his sandy beard 
quivered with excitement and the man’s whole frame swayed 
to and fro as if moved by the motion of the vessel at the time 
of which he spoke. 


246 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


SPRUNG A LEAK. 

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon. The schooner 
was laboring heavily and seas frequently washed her decks, 
when the mate discovered a large hole in the port bow, about 
three feet above the water line. It seemed to him as if the 
port had been struck by some powerful spar or other tim- 
ber and the planking knocked out, leaving an opening about 
three feet square for the angry waters to rush through. An- 
derson looked upon the frightful sight with dismay — all 
the more so because the vessel was at the time on the port 
tack, which brought the yawning chasm in her bows under 
water every lurch she gave. The schooner was under bare 
poles except the try-sail on the mizzenmast, which remained 
np so as to ‘balance her.’ Anderson was the first to discover 
this disastrous leak and fearing to alarm Captain Johnson, 
he went up to him quietly where he was standing on the fore- 
castle, and said: 

‘Look here, captain, there’s a hole in the port bow; the 
old port has been knocked in.’ 

‘Oh! my God,’ replied the captain, ‘we are sinking.’' 

The mate said, encouragingly, ‘it is not very bad yet; the 
planking is not started yet.’ 

After some further remarks the mate again said to the ‘old 
man:’ ‘This is no place for us; we may be knocked over- 
board.’ ‘Yes, that is so,’ said the captain. While this was 
passing both skipper and mate were on the forecastle. The 
latter then hastened below to try and stop the hole. He took 
three new tarpaulins and an inch-and-a-half plank, stretching 
the cloth across the opening by the aid of some of the crew, 
and wedged the plank between the stanchions and beams to 
keep all snug. Just as he returned on deck from his effort to 
stop the hole, a heavy sea came along carrying destruction 
before it, and smashed in the forecastle. Anderson ran up 
to the wreck of the forecastle but missed the ‘old man.’ The 
mate looked around on all sides but could not see his supe- . 
rior ofiicer. He saw five of the crew on the lee side working 
hard to pull a man on board ; he thought it must be the cap- 
tain ; the man was soon brought on deck and proved to be a 
Frenchman, Paul De Bois. The fearful truth now flashed on 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


247 


the minds of all, that Captain Johnson had been swept over- 
l^oard and that while they were rescuing one of their shipmates 
from the jaws of death their commander was struggling for 
life. The men now laid hold of the rigging, some of them 
got on the spars and all tried their best to find the missing 
oaptain, thinking that he might be floating about and that it 
might be possible to rescue him. He was nevermore seen. 

GOES DOWN IN THE STORM. 

The mate now assumed command of the doomed vessel and 
the crew seconded his efforts in doing all that could be done 
for the common safety under such singularly trying circum- 
stances. A fearful sea carried away the bulwarks and smashed 
the cabin door; another, more frightful still came on, curling 
its green, serpentine folds, till it overtopped the spars of the 
ill-fated craft, and bursting with all its might upon her, al- 
most buried vessel and crew in the caves of the ocean. The 
Thatcher, as if struggling for life, arose again to the surface, 
shook herself free from the foamy flood and reneived her bat- 
tle ivith the billows. One of the boats was stove in, the rud- 
der was gone, the jib-boom w^as broken and the ivorking gear 
on the pumps smashed. In a word the schooner lay a help- 
less ivreck, buffeted about by the relentless storm. The gear- 
ing of the bilge pump was shifted to the other pump, and a 
fruitless attempt ivas made to work it. 

At this supreme moment came a calm which lasted for 
about ten minutes. The vessel, not being able to steady her- 
self, was pitched about like a chip. ‘My eyes, hoiv she rolled!’ 
exclaimed the mate ; ‘she looked like a cork in a storm and it 
seemed as if she would roll all the sticks out of her.’ He saw 
the danger of letting her toss about in this fearful fashion and 
seizing an ax, began to cut away the mainmast, but was not 
able to complete the duty till the wind set in with renewed 
strength from the south-west. The mate dived into the cabin 
and looked at the barometer, it w^as doivn to 28.7. All hands 
were placed at the pumps, but the ivater which had not been 
kept out by the temporary covering over the damaged port, 
continued to gain and as everything ivas wet in the hold, it 
was impossible to sound the vessel. She was sinking gradu- 


248 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


ally. By eleven o’clock at night the mizzen-mast was carried 
away amid the howl of winds which swept the rigging. The 
wreck around the fallen mast was soon cleared away. At half 
past one o’clock the fore and mainmasts were broken like 
reeds and the vessel began to settle down fast. Then in the 
dismal darkness of the night, amid the boiling waves and the 
screeching wind the crew bethought themselves of the remain- 
ing boat. It was successfully launched, the cabin boy put 
into it to keep the oars, and at two o’clock the crew followed.. 
They had no time to save anything but what was on their 
backs. Three quarters of a barrel of bread and one ham com- 
posed the stock of provisions that was saved from the whole 
cargo ; no water was at hand, and in addition to these stores 
the mate was able to add his sextant, the 'ship’s chronometer 
and a few other nautical instruments. The boy in the boat 
held on to the thwarts and the. remainder of the crew jumped 
in as best they could. The Thatcher was now at the mercy 
of the elements, and the crew in the boat had hard work to 
keep away from her on account of the suction. The crew 
had not been long off the schooner when she was struck in 
the counter by a heavy sea, and then gave a lurch to leeward 
before she plunged headlong downward into the fathomless 
depths. 


AT THE MERCY OF THE WAVES. 

The storm continued to rage till near day, when the wind 
began to lull. The waves calmed down. The crew was in 
mid-ocean, in a ship’s boat, with only three-quarters of a bar- 
rel of bread among them, no water and death staring them in 
the face. They lay, drifting about, from Saturday till Mon- 
day, but no sail appeared on the horizon and they begun to 
realize the almost certainty of an agonizing death. In this 
dreadful time, the men kept cool and behaved well. They 
suffered like martyrs and resolved to die like men. About 
three o’clock on Monday morning, a fair breeze set in from 
the north-east and the lingering of hope began to revive in the 
breasts of the suffering mariners. A blanket and a. sailor’s 
coat, which should have been mentioned as among the arti- 
cles in the boat, were made into a sort of sail and with this 


THE STOKY OF THE SEAS. 


249 


spread of sail, the boat bore away for the track most frequent- 
ed by vessels plying between Europe and America and the 
West Indies. The Island of Trinidad was believed to be the 
nearest land and that was a thousand miles away. The suf- 
ferings of the crew were fearful. Exposed to the inclemency 
of the weather, in a stark starving condition, their tongues 
swollen and lips parched, with an excruciating thirst that 
became almost unbearable; time and again they prayed fer- 
vently for relief in death. 

A SAIL IN SIGHT. 

On Thursday, October 24, at half past seven in the morning, 
the splendor of the ascending sun showed them the unspeak- 
ably welcome sight of a sail bearing away before the wind on 
her starboard tack. Then went up to the skies a mad shout 
of gladness, sent aloft with all the remaining strength of the 
famishing sailors. The stranger bowled along in her course 
and the boat crew made all the frantic efforts of men in their 
awful condition, to attract the notice of the approaching ves- 
sel. But she did not see the boat until it and its cargo of 
living skeletons w^ere within a mile and a half off. Then she 
made them out, hove to and took them on board. The ship- 
wrecked men had been for five days in their boat and cried 
for joy to find themselves safe on the Norwegian bark Terzo, 
Captain Reilly, from Liverpool, bound for Sandy Hook, to 
await orders. Captain Reilly did everything possible to make 
the rescued seamen comfortable. He picked them up in 
latitude 27 deg. 13 min. north, and longitude 57 deg. 40 min. 
west. The boat had carried them about five hundred miles 
from the spot where the Thatcher went down. The Terzo 
arrived off Sandy Hook late on Thursday night and yesterday 
the crew of the Thatcher were brought to this city in a tug 
and taken to the Sailors’ Home, on Cherry street. In the 
afternoon they were sent by the Seamen’s Friend Society to 
Boston. The names of the rescued crew are: First mate, 
Carl Anderson; second mate, Frederick Baars; cook, Robert 
Jackson; seamen, Dominico Lourzier, George Clements, W. 
Copeland, Charles Brown, John Nilles, Paul De Bois and 
Richard Allen, cabin boy.” 


250 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


We reached Boston the next morning at seven o’clock and 
at once went to the boarding house kept by Gtto Paris, where 
we arrived just in time for breakfast. 

Mr. Anderson and I went to the office of Koberts& Mans- 
field after breakfast and gave our account of the wreck. 
They deplored the loss of the captain and showed us every 
kindness; told us to rest a month at their expense and also 
paid each of us twenty-five dollars. They paid the men too, 
ten dollars each and a month’s board. Frenchy, poor fellow, 
was sent to the hospital in New York and died soon after ar- 
riving there. Alonza had to go to the hospital at Boston. 
The rest of us recuperated and soon regained our usual good 
health. 

Mrs. Johnson asked to see us; and one evening, a few days 
after our return to Boston, we all went over to Chelsea and 
saw the family. They were in deep mourning and their loss 
was irreparable. We stayed but a short time; then bade the 
family good-bye. It was the last time I saw Miss Mary. 

We had hardly been in Boston a week, when one evening 
Mr. Anderson came to my room and told me, “The C. K. 
Weldon is going to ship in a few days. I am going in her 
and I want you to go with us. Mr. Mansfield told the cap- 
tain to give us the first chance. Come and let’s go down to 
the wharf and have a look at her.” “No, sir,” I said, 
and I meant it. “1 appreciate this kind offer but I don’t 
want to go.” “But,” Mr. Anderson urged, “This may be 
your last chance.” “I don’t care,” I replied, “I don’t want 
to go to Africa any more.” Mr. Anderson laughed and then 
left me. I paced up and down my room for some time. 
New, strange feelings possessed me. Since the loss of my 
last ship, I felt that my whole life was changed. My old pur- 
pose to be a seaman — the purpose to which I had clung since 
early boyhood — with all its bright hopes were buried in the 
sea when the Thatcher sank. I stopped before the looking- 
glass — my face was changed — and for the first time 1 noticed 
my hair was thickly sprinkled with white. The feelings that 
surged within me became almost unbearable and, without 
knowing why, I threw myselt upon the bed and wept. Several 
days passed as if in a dream. Mr. Billy Shehan was about 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


251 


the best friend I had and 1 spent most of my evenings with 
him at the cigar store. Mr. and Mrs. Paris were very kind. 
Miss Lizzie was to be married to a young man who came here 
some months ago from a long voyage and had recently inher- 
ited some money from Germany and was fitting up a saloon 
near the boarding house. 

In a few days the C. K. Weldon was ready for sea. All 
our Thatcher crew, except Alonza, who was still at the hos- 
pital, and myself, had shipped — even Kichard and the doctor. 
I went to the wharf to see them off. As I saw them at work, 
casting loose the ropes, and especially, as I shook hands with 
those shipmates, to whom I felt bound by ties that seemed 
sacred, I wished, for a moment, that I might have gone with 
them; but as they left, amid the cheers from the little group 
on the wharf, my former feelings returned and I felt sure, 
that for some cause, I ought not to have gone. Three days 
later, a man came to our boarding house, gathered all the 
boarders together and told us that two hundred young men 
were wanted to enlist in the U. S. Navy, at twenty-one dollars 
per month for seamen and eighteen for ordinary seamen. I 
at once told him I would go. Two others, Johnson and Smith, 
would also go. The man told us to pack up at once and come 
right along with him. We were soon ready and followed our 
man across the bridge to Charleston and into the navy yard. 

As we entered the recruiting office, we found about fifty 
others. Several officers examined the men; it was a close ex- 
amination on seamanship. I passed all right and so did 
Johnson and Smith. Some twenty out of the fifty were 
refused and those who had passed were marched across the 
yard and on board the U. S. Keceiving Ship, Wabash. Here 
the examination was rapidly reviewed by the executive officer 
and then came the medical examination. Eight more were 
refused here and twenty-three were recommended as sound in 
body. Then came the real enlistment*. One by one, we were 
called into the detail office and name, when and where born, 
age, rating, description of person— all were duly recorded. 
The officer then read the terms of enlistment. 

Twenty-one dollars and a half per month, as wages, regular 
service three years. Then the oath, which is as follows; the 


252 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


officer holding a bible in his right hand and the man to whom 
the oath is administered, touching it with his right hand while 
the officer reads: “F. D. Baars, upon h‘is solemn oath that 
he will support the constitution and he doth absolutely and 
entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any 
foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty, where he has 
heretofore been a subject, and particularly, to the Emperor 
of Germany, whose subject he has heretofore been.” The 
oath being administered, the applicant signs his full name and 
is now a recruit. The master-at-arms takes charge of the new 
recruits, takes them down on the berth deck to the assistant 
paymaster. Each man is measured and supplied with a full 
list of clothing, as follows: — 

Two suits of underclothing, 

Two pairs of shoes (one light the other heavy). 

One dress uniform. 

One working uniform (blue). 

One working uniform (white). 

One cap, 

One hammock. 

One pair of blankets. 

To this each man may add such articles as socks, handker- 
chiefs, another full dress uniform, an overcoat and toilet ar- 
ticles, the total amount of extras not to exceed fifty pounds 
in weight. These things are all charged to the men, but at 
actual cost, and they are made of the best material that is to 
be had. 

I felt just a little awkward as I came out in my uniform, 
but I liked it. We were now fair sport for the amusement 
of the old blue jackets, as man-of-war sailors are called. On 
a man-of-war everything has its place and its time. The 
master-at-arms had turned us over to the corporal, who 
showed us how to tie up each article of clothing and how to 
place it in our bag, then how to roll up and lash our ham- 
mocks and where to place them. The bag and hammock 
were numbered, as were also the men. A man loses his indi- 
viduality in the service and becomes simply a number, and so 
I found myself in my new life No. 651. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


253 


A recruit generally has a pretty hard time of it for a while, 
but as the three hundred men on board the Wabash were 
nearly all recruits, for a while at least we had things pretty 
much our own way. For a week we had but little to do. 
The great ship was housed and heated by steam and so we 
Avere quite comfortable. We had a good deal of fun for the 
first few nights getting into our hammocks. They were slung 
between the cross beams over head (fully six feet high) and 
fitted in there tight — as straight as a board — and Avere made 
of heavy canvas as stiff as a board. I had slept in a hammock 
before and thought that I AA^ould have no trouble, but as I 
jumped in for the first time, like the rest of the ’cruits I tum- 
bled right over and out on the other side. I climbed up 
again amid the laughter of the croAvd. I Avas not alone, but 
could hear the boys jump in and tumble out all round, and all 
the Avay along the deck. The officer of the berth deck called 
out in thunder tones, “silence, there!” Taa^o corporals came 
noAv, one along either side of the deck, and made them all get 
in. Several had gotten their blankets out of the hammocks 
and spread them out on deck. One of the felloAvs had fallen 
out several times and told the corporal: “Get out! I’m no 
chicken, and I’m not going to roost up there.” No use, 
he had to try again. I did not sleep all night for fear of turn- 
ing over and tumbling out. All along through the night AA^e 
could hear, every now and then, a short, quick struggle, then 
a thump as he struck the deck, followed by a general laugh 
from the crowd, in which even the dignified officers on duty 
could not help but join. The second night Avas but little better, 
but gradually Ave learned. The secret Avas to hold on to the 
bolt overhead till you lay doAvn, then relax every muscle and 
you are safe. 

The second Aveek our first work began. It was drill. We 
Avere formed into divisions and put through the infantry tac- 
tics. This lasted a month, then came gun drill and some ar- 
tillery tactics. As I had had good training in most of these 
forms Avhile at the Hamburg Gymnasium, it came easy to me 
and I Avas soon promoted to a petty office — only temporarily, 
hoAvever — to help break in the greenhorns. Christmas came. 
The earth was covered with snow and the Aveather Avas cold. 


254 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


but except during the two. hours drill in the yard, we were 
warm and comfortable. Uncle Sam takes good care of his 
sailors and soldiers. 

I received occasional letters from Mrs. Montgomery, who 
had become my mother-like friend. Her letters did me good. 
Here is one of them : 

“SiMMSPORT, Avoyelles Parish, La., 
Friday^ 7th of Nov. 1879. 

In looking over my work basket the other day, Frederick, 
I found your last letter and much to my surprise, discovered 
a postscript that had escaped me in the first reading, in which 
you requested my next letter to be addressed to the United 
States Receiving Ship Wabash, Boston, Mass. I wrote you 
immediately on receipt of yours informing me that you had 
failed in procuring a discharge, but that letter was directed 
to Chelsea and perhaps has never reached you. 

You mentioned having met a short time previously, one of 
crew of the Ann Elizabeth, Tilly 1 think is the name. Please, 
whenever the opportunity occurs, give my kindest remem- 
brances to any member of the crew who helped or comforted 
in the slightest degree the last hours of my precious boy ; and 
if any one of them ever comes into my neighborhood I shall 
be glad to see and thank him in person. You must under- 
stand and bear always in mind, that at any time you choose 
to come to this part of the world, there is employment to be 
had and plenty of money to pay for it. At Mr. Winstead's, 
whose wife is my cousin, they had arranged for your arrival 
and were disappointed to learn that you had failed in the un- 
dertaking. However, as you say, it is, perhaps, all for the 
best. I know from the letters that used to come to me from 
my darling boy, how hard and rough a sailor’s life is, and 
that they cannot always be dressed as carefully or look as well 
as they would like, but you must let nothing of that kind in- 
fluence you ; however and whenever you come to me, be as- 
sured of a welcome, for it is not the dress that makes the 
man, but the good, honest heart, and the kindly manner. 

Should you finally conclude to cling to the seaman’s life, I 
would use every effort to push myself forward. I would rise 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


255 


in the service, I Avould not remain a seaman. Make friends 
at every point by dress, manner and conversation. Seek and 
suit yourself to the next grade above a seaman— whatever it 
is win your way to it and then on to the next, until finally 
you shall be in position to control and direct the movements 
of others, and so secure for yourself some of the ease and qui- 
etude of life, as well as the opportunity and power to help 
others who have struggled like yourself. Write to me as often 
as you can, and believe me to be always. 

Your good and true friend, 

Julia Montgomery.” 

January passed. In February the Vandalia came home 
from China and her crew were paid off. Fully half of her 
crew continued service and were at once re-enlisted, receiving 
for this a bonus of three months’ pay. There was new life, 
and I obtained the first real insight into the life on board a 
man-of-war. Here were some men who had served in the 
navy for thirty, forty, and one old man, for fifty-two years. 
The latter had been offered a pension, but declined as he was 
still alive, and preferred the service to living on dry land. I 
had learned some things since my enlistment and found that a 
young mau, who is qualified and of steady habits, may obtain 
a good position as yeoman or clerk. I made application for a 
clerkship, obtained recommendations from Koberts & Mans- 
field and some others, and Captain Breeze, who commanded 
the Wabash, had promised to file my application. 

One day, early in March, three hundred men were drafted 
to fit out the United States Ship Constellation. My name was 
called, or rather my number. As I stepped forward and 
marched by the capstan, I fell in line with the petty ofiicers. 
I did not know what I was to do and had no time to ask. We 
were marched to the gangway, on to a small steamboat and 
then crossed the bay. Then we went on board of a Baltimore 
steamer and left Boston without having time to bid farewell 
to our friends. 


256 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS- 


, CHAPTER XXX. 

THE LAST. 

“Here, listen to me,” said old Commodore, an old blue 
jacket who had served during the war and ever since, “listen 
to me. You had a sight better gone and hung yourself than 
ha’ come here. Look at an old hulk like me. I’ve served 
more than thirty years, and what have I got? No home, no 
money, no folks, and most times I ain’t got a friend. No, 
sir-ee; if I could live my life over, blame the ship I’d go nigh. 
Promotion, eh? Boy you don’t know what you are talking 
.about. Don’t you know the good places are always filled? 
Some vagabond son or nephew, or other kind o’ sucker that’s 
a hanging pn to a congressman or some other rascally poli- 
tician ste^DS always in just ahead of you. A blue jacket ain’t 
no good. Things ain’t like they used ter be,” the old man 
continued musingly. “Before the war a blue jacket had a 
chance, and if he had sense and backbone he could get up. 
I’ve knowed half a dozen or more as shipped like me and rose 
up into the line and were full commissioned officers, but them 
days is gone. Now a blue jacket stays a blue jacket. He 
ain’t even a man — he’s only a number — and when Davy Jones 
gets him, some other fellow gets his number and he’s gone 
and nobody knows that he was thar.” Old Commodore lit 
his pipe, got up and walked away. 

We had had a pleasant passage of three days from Boston 
to Norfolk, where we were transferred temporarily to the 
United States Ship Franklin, and we were here waiting for 
the Constellation to get ready for us. Mrs. Montgomery’s 
letter had turned my thoughts towards the land. But what ^ 
could I do? Besides, I was enlisted for three years. I won- 
dered if old Commodore was right and if there really was no 
hope for promotion. My name had been called with the 
petty officers as we were drafted on the Wabash, but that 
might have been a mistake, and I feared that after all my 
hopes had been in vain and I was but a seaman. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


257 


We had been, on board of the Franklin about two weeks 
when on a Monday morning the order came: “All men for 
the Constellation on deck with bag and hammock.” I was 
tired of the monotony of the receiving ship, as were all the 
rest, and the order was hailed with delight. The dispatch 
boat Talapoosa came alongside. All hands were mustered, 
and as we answered to our names we marched, one by one, 
over the gangway onto the Talapoosa. When on board we 
steamed up the Chesapeake Bay to Annapolis, where we at 
once went on board the Constellation. Now everything took 
on new life as we reached the ship to which we really be- 
longed. As soon as we all gathered on the deck the roll was 
called and three men were missing, but we learned that they 
were sick and had been left on board the Franklin. Now the 
lieutenant came forward and called out : “ Form double rank 
and fall into line.” A double rank line was formed which 
extended nearly the full length of the ship. Then the officer 
looked over several lists, and, to my surprise, called my name 
and ordered me to come to the capstan. “Here, take charge 
of these lists,” he said to me, handing me several sheets of 
paper. I did not know what else to do, so remained stand- 
ing at the capstan. Several other seamen were appointed 
temporarily to act as boatswain’s mates, corporals and cox- 
swains. 

Then the men broke ranks, put away their bags and ham- 
mocks and put the deck in order. “You come with me 
now,” said the lieutenant, who was acting executive officer. 
His name was McKenzie. I followed him down on the gun- 
deck into the detail office. “Now get your lists copied. 
Then I’ll help you arrange the watches and station lists and 
that Avill do for to-day; and you can then put the office in 
order.” An hour’s work and it was done. So I found myself 
installed as ship’s writer almost before I knew it. 

The next morning after the decks were washed down the 
crew was partly organized. Petty officers were appointed and 
placed in charge of their duties. It was a busy day for me. 
All the station lists were made out (a list of all the names of 
the men belonging to each part of the ship, boat’s crew, etc.) 
and permanently entered in the station book. In a few days 


258 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


everything was organized and there was but little to do. My 
routine was about as follows: 

Rise at six o’clock; arrange the desks in the office ; properly 
fill copy and enter all orders handed in the evening before, or 
that were being handed in up until eight o’clock. Then make 
special copies of any general, special orders or regulations, in 
large clear writing and paste them up on the bulletins. Then 
at eight o’clock go to breakfast in the petty officers’ mess. 
At nine o’clock quarters, after which followed two hours’ 
drill, during which I stayed near the bridge with my station 
and division lists ready to note any transfer changes, and 
account for absentees. On Mondays and Thursdays we had 
sail drill; Tuesdays and Fridays, gun drill; Wednesdays, 
small arms, and on Saturdays, fire quarters. 

The Constellation was one of the old-time sailing vessels, so 
we had no engineer’s crew, but we had two companies of 
marines. They are the soldiers on board, and for some cause 
the average blue jacket despises a marine. They serve also 
as a police patrol and do the hauling up (arresting), and are 
quartered in a separate part of the ship. I anticipated a 
good deal of fun at the expense of the new men, but was dis- 
appointed; most of the old jokes played on the greenhorns 
as well as the mock ceremonies in honor of the legendary sea 
god, Neptune, having been done away with. Besides the really 
old men were few, and the large majority were but recently 
enlisted. The only part of the oath of allegiance to Neptune 
that remains in force among blue jackets is — Don’t drink 
water but drink grog; hate a sojer and love a pretty girl. 

Mr. McKenzie, our executive officer, was one of the most 
remarkable men I ever met. By the time we had been three 
weeks on board he knew every man’s name, and within two 
months he knew every man^s division and station — even more 
than that, he knew every man’s general character. He was 
to the men an ideal officer, and every man admired him. 

At last out* ship was ready for sea. The commander came 
on board, and about the last week in May, two hundred mid- 
shipmen from the Naval Academy came on board. The mid- 
dies had quarters on the berth deck, while the blue jackets 
occupied the gun deck. To take these middies out on a three 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


259 ' 


months’ cruise along the Atlantic coast, was the purpose of all 
this preparation. It was on a Monday morning as we weighed 
anchor and spread our sails, not one at a time as on a mer- 
chantman, but all at once, as there were enough men for each 
sail and for all the halyards. It was a beautiful sight. The 
weather was lovely. The sun shed its rich warm light upon 
the clear waters of the bay. The gracefully sloping hills, 
that formed the barrier to those crystaline waters, were clad 
in fresh green verdure, hundreds of small vessels and steam 
boats plied up and down; many of the sail boats occupied by 
friends of our officers or middies followed us for a number of 
miles. The middies were now organized into two watches, 
and stationed with the blue jackets. They stood the same 
watches and performed the same duties as the blue jackets, 
alternately acting as officers of the deck. 

For a month we sailed about, practising and drilling. I had 
received letters from Mrs. Montgomery at regular intervals. 
Once or twice a week came her letters with good counsel and 
constant encouragement. More and more I desired to give up 
my sailor life. My present situation only increased my desire. 
I was lonesome, as I belonged neither to the officers nor the 
men. Mr. McKenzie was very kind to me. He planned a 
course of reading for me and lent me his books. Occasionally, 
he talked freely with me and one afternoon told me, “Fred, 
if I were you, I’d quit the sea. I think you could succeed and 
rise to good positions in the course of time, but it is hard to 
foretell. Politicians control, more or less, all the offices that 
are worth anything. You have time yet. You could work 
your way through college and be something in life. In the 
service there is but little hope, unless- you have some power 
behind you to help you up.” 

About the first of July, we ran into Portland, Maine. Most 
of the Atlantic fleet, with the old Powhattan as flagship, al- 
ready lay at anchor there. Great preparations were made to 
celebrate the Fourth of July. The great day dawned and the 
rising sun was greeted by the roar of perhaps a hundred can- 
non. At nine o’clock, with fife and drum, we were called to 
general quarters, and from four U. S. men-of-war, and from 
some ten different places along the shore — from the fort and 


260 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


from the city — the national salute was fired, consisting of 
twenty-one minute guns (fired at intervals of one minute). 
For an hour the echoes of thunder belched from the throats 
of these instruments of destruction and rumbled in the air. 
At ten o’clock, the four vessels made sail and stood out to 
sea. Then we had a maneuver (a sham battle). Six men 
were killed, but who cared? It was just as old Commodore 
had said, “Men are only numbers and when Davy Jones 
(death) gets him, another gets his number and he is gone and 
nobody knows that he was thar.” 

We ran into port again by five o’clock in the evening and a 
large crowd went on liberty. I too went on shore. The 
sailors scattered about the city in groups; I went my own way, 
alone and lonesome. For the first time I began to fear that 
my health was failing. I returned on board earlier than 
necessary. I went to bed but could not sleep. The next day 
was a day of trouble; out of the (me hundred and forty men 
who went on liberty, nine had deserted and about one hun- 
dred had returned drunk, fifteen or twenty being brought on 
board by policemen. Character is rated as w^ell as seamen- 
ship. There are four classes. First-class men may draw all 
their pay, up to three months due, and may have liberty as 
often as their duties do not make it necessary to remain on 
board. Second-class men can draw half their pay, up to 
three months due, and have liberty once a week for twelve 
hours w^hile in port. Third-class men can draw but five 
dollars per month and have liberty only once in three months. 
While fourth-class men cannot apply for anything within 
three months. The next offense after a man is rated as 
fourth-class leads to a court martial. 

Every Monday morning we had court. Captain McNair, 
our commander, was a good man and lenient wfith the offen- 
ders — still the result showed ten fourth-class, thirty-six third- 
class and about fifty or sixty second-class, out of the hundred 
and forty men who went on liberty. Poor blue jackets! It 
was but the same old story, drink had done all the damage. 
We now went out to sea again. 

A few days after we had left Portland, I got worse and had 
to go to the sick bay. Several friends among the seamen 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


261 


stayed with me alternately and one, Charlie Miller, whose 
friendship I had cultivated, showed me much kindness. 
When we reached Boston, I learned that I was to be trans- 
ferred to the Naval Hospital. At first I shrank from it, I 
had not forgotten that dismal place in Panama; but Mr. 
McKenzie and the surgeon assured me that I would have 
every attention I needed and besides would keep my rank and 
continue on full pay. Captain McNair too, spoke kindly to 
me, and told me he would keep my place for me thirty days 
and he hoped by that time I would be able to resume my 
duties. I grew worse during the night and scarcely remember 
when I was carried to the hospital. 

The next morning, after my arrival at the hospital, I was 
roused by a marine, a red headed, squint eyed Irishman. 
“ Who’re you, where you from?” he kept asking and punching 
me in the side. “Oh! let him alone, he’s sick,” said a more 
generous hearted seaman, who occupied a bed close to me. 
“Sick?” replied the marine in disgust, “sick, eh? what do you 
want here? You’d better hurry up and get well, we don’t 
want any sick folks here.” With that, he walked across the 
ward, sat down by his cot and finished dressing. 

“I say, boys,” again broke in the marine, “yesterday I met 
the doctor down the w^alk and, by jiminy, I limped on the 
wrong foot, but I’ll get him next time.” Then he got up and 
walked up and down the ward, limping heavily on the right 
foot, then suddenly stopped and said, “No, that’s not my sore 
foot. Let’s try the other one. ” Then he walked again, limp- 
ing on the left foot and again stopped, saying, “Oh! that’s 
him.” He now took a piece of chalk out of his vest pocket 
made a small mark on the toe of his left shoe and added — 
“Now I’ve got you, old fellow.” By this time I was wide 
awake and laughed heartily with the rest of the patients, 
among whom I seemed to be the only sick man. At nine 
o’clock every morning, the ward surgeon came on his morning 
inspection. There were ten patients in our ward (the first 
ward) and when the doctor entered, each man took his posi- 
tion standing at the foot of his cot. The doctor asked each 
man how he was getting on, examined his medicine and passed 
on, attended by the ward nurse, to whom all instructions were 


262 


THE STOEY OF THE SEAS. 


given. When the surgeon came to my cot, he gave me but a 
passing look and went on. I wondered if he, too, like the 
patients, was disgusted at having a really sick man in the ward. 
He returned, however, and with him came the executive sur- 
geon. The two examined me closely, held some consultation, 
gave some instructions to Mike, our nurse, and left. During 
the afternoon. Dr. Hord, the medical director, chief of the 
hospital, came and talked to me for some time. All the boys 
loved him, for he was truly a good man. He came every 
evening for some days, always cheerful and kind. I got no 
better. One Sunday afternoon. Dr. Hord came and sat beside 
me for some time, as if in deep study ; then he asked me ; ^ 

“Are your parents living?” 

. “My father is dead sir, but mother, step-father and a sister 
live in Hamburg.” 

“Do they know where you are?” 

“Yes sir, I think they do by this time.” 

“Have you written home lately?” 

“No sir, not since I came here.” 

“Are you a Christian?” 

“I-I-donT know, sir.” Then a sudden fear came over me 
and 1 asked, anxiously: “Do you think I am going to die, 
doctor?” 

“Oh! no-no-no, boy,” he said tenderly, “I only wanted to 
know more about you. You may be sick for some time, but 
you will improve as soon as we can get rid of this rheuma- 
tism; it has a strong hold on you. I am going to change your 
treatment slightly, and I think that will help you. Don’t 
worry.” Then he gently stroked my forehead and continued, 
“Don’t worry. You are in a good place. I’m glad you came 
here. You have nothing to do but be patient.” Then he 
left me. 

That evening my medicine was changed and an electric 
battery was placed by my bed and Mike received instructions 
to apply it a few minutes every hour if I was awake, but not 
to wake me at any time. It was painful at the time, but 
after the application the dull aching in my bones felt easy 
for some time. The next morning, before Mike came in, 
Duffy, the red-headed marine, saw the battery. “What’s 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


263 


that?” he said. “That’s a battery,” replied Tom, another 
patient, “Let’s take a shock.” “All right,” said Duffy, and 
took one of the leads. Tom took the other. Then he put 
Duffy’s left hand on the battery, turned on the current and 
touched Duffy’s head with the other lead. Duffy gave a 
yell and lay sprawling on the floor. This brought Mike, the 
boys ran to their cots, and, of course, there was nothing the 
matter. 

The third week I was able to sit up, and improved from 
day to day. One afternoon I noticed Dr. fiord in the second 
ward with a young man who had been in the hospital for some 
months. He had heart disease and knew that he could not 
live long. Dr. Hord had asked repeatedly about his home 
and about his people, but the young man declined to tell. 
This afternoon the doctor pleaded with the young man to 
write home or give his name and address to the doctor or the 
chaplain, but Bob refused. 

“Doctor,” he said, “I thank you for your kindness, but my 
people think me dead, and it is better so. They shall never 
know when or where I died.” 

Poor fellow! Next morning he got up, and while he was 
dressing, fell to the floor — dead. 

The fourth week I was able to go out of doors for a while 
every evening, but I regained strength slowly and I lost my 
position on the Constellation. Mrs. Montgomery begged me 
to ask for my discharge and come to her; assured me of a 
welcome and urged that 1 quit the sea. I applied for my 
discharge, but it was refused, and so I was obliged to serve 
my time of three years. 

I was now able to join the boys in their outdoor exercises. 
It was in September. The weather was beautiful. On Sat- 
urdays and Sundays we could get liberty, and I spent those 
days with friends in Boston just across the bay from Chelsea. 
As I regained my strength I got into the ring of the pa- 
tients and the first lesson I learned was on a Monday morn- 
ing, six weeks after my arrival. Jim, with a broken (?) leg, 
who walked on crutches, and Duffy, with a broken (?) foot, 
poor fellow— walked with two heavy sticks— and some eight 
or ten other patients, after inspection, all went out of the 


264 


THE STOEY OF THE SEAS. 


building for exercise (?). The grounds were beautiful, 
bounded on one side by the clear water of the Mystic river 
and on the other by the orchard and garden, beyond which 
was a high stone wall separating us from the town of Chel- 
sea. Off to one side was the hospital cemetery. As soon as 
we all got out into the grounds, we walked leisurely to the 
end of the garden fence. Then Jim hid his crutches, Duffy 
threw down his stick — indeed, a sudden transformation took 
place — and all jumped over the fence, ran across the garden, 
jumped the outer wall and made for a corner saloon, where 
we got some beer. About the third or fourth day, five of us 
were caught in the garden, and according to criminal law 
in the hospital, and as bad boys well deserved, we were given 
ten days in bed. All our clothing was taken from us, and 
we were given bed suits instead. I was sorry enough then, 
but it was too late, and I grew even more sorry when Mr. 
and Mrs. Harvey and several young ladies came to see me. 
Mike helped me out, and told them: 

“Fred has gotten worse lately and is obliged to stay in bed.” 
They came in quietly, gently expressed their sympathy and 
hoped that I would soon be able to be up and out again. 
Well, the days passed by. I bore my afiliction patiently and 
on the morning of the seventh day, came a pardon. Those of 
the ring, who had committed a number of offences, over the 
fence, were sent on duty. 

I made my second application fora discharge, but was again 
refused; so another month passed by. I had gotten entirely 
well before this, and daily expected to be sent back to duty. 
Mrs. Montgomery now sent a letter to Dr. Hord, pleading for 
mydischarge. Dr. Hord came and sent for me. I told him 
about my connection to Mrs. Montgomery and he promised to 
intercede for me. So my third application was sent in with 
his recommendation. I waited and waited. Another month 
passed by and I was about to give up hope, when one Tuesday 
morning, about November 2nd, I was ordered to pack my 
bag and hammock and was transferred to the receiving ship 
Wabash, and on the 27th of November, I received my honor- 
able discharge and was paid off with one hundred and forty- 
five dollars. 


THE STORY OF THE SEAS. 


265 


I bought a good suit of citizen’s clothes, bade my Boston 
friends farewell and following the kind advice and invitation 
of my mother-like friend, Mrs. Montgomery, I purchased a 
through ticket to New Orleans and on November 28, 1879, I 
left Boston. Thus ended my sailor’s career. 

Arriving at New Orleans, I had a most cordial reception at 
the elegant home of Mr. and Mrs. S. F. Thomas, brother-in- 
law and sister of Mrs. Montgomery. During the several days 
I remained here, waiting for an Atchafalaya river boat, I was 
placed under many obligations by the generous kindness ex- 
tended to me. Then I left New Orleans on the steamboat 
Fanchion and in three days more, landed at Merrick’s Store, 
Point Coupe, Parish, La., where, at the home of Mr. S. M. 
Winstead, I met, for the first time, Mrs. Montgomery. Truly 
she was to me a mother-like friend. Through her influence, I 
found employment. It was no small task to go from a ship 
to a cotton farm. But I found new friends and I had the 
constant encouragement of Mrs. Montgomery — these, with in- 
troductions into good families, led me into new hopes and 
gradually into new life. 

Now my story is ended. While writing these pages, the 
pleasant task of a vacation, I have been aided by her I love 
most — my wife. We have talked over these events till they 
have come back to me so vividly that, at times, I felt as if I 
were again a sailor boy, and in my dreams I have heard again 
the moaning of the winds through the rigging and the rushing 
of the waves. A kind of loneliness gathers over me, as I am 
about to lay down my pen, but my task is done. 

I have told my story, not of fiction, but of facts, not of 
fancy, but of real life. The scenes and incidents of my story 
occurred more than twenty years ago and I have told them as 
they impressed me then and as I remember them now. 




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The Ouachita College, 

ORGANIZED 1886, 

Offers Superior ^IdVantages 

in the Liberal 

NINE SCHOOLS WITH CURRICULUM EXTENSIVE ANO THOROUGH. 


CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC under direction of a gentleman from 
Hamburg, and the course modeled after that of the Leipzic Conser- 
vatory. All instruments taught. Orchestra and chorus work im- 
portant features. 

SCHOOL OF ORATORY AND GYMNASIUM under graduate of 
Boston School of Expression. 

SCHOOL OF ART is under direction of a special pupil of the 
best French and American artists. 

THE OUACHITA BUSINESS COLLEGE offers all lines of business 
education, banking, book-keeping, stenography, telegraphy, etc. 

THE YOUNG LADIES’ HOME is unsurpassed. All modern im- 
provements, electric lights, bath rooms, gymnasium, telephone and 
telegraph connections. 

J. W. CONGER, M. A., President, 

A. G. McMANAWAY, D. D., Secretary, 

Arkadelphia, Ark. 





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ARKADELPHIA 

Methodist College. 

(MALE AND FEMALE.) 

FOURTEEN OFFICERS AND TEACHERS. 

DEPARTMENTS: 

Literarij; Ii)st:nin)ei)tal apd Vocal; Art — Paiptipi Drawip^, Craijop. 

Pastel Etc. Elociitiop, Slort-flapd, Tijpe-writipd, Peprpap^lip. 

REV. G. C, JONES, President. 


ARKADELPHIA, ARK. 


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